Black Prospects
by Kary Starr
Summary: UPDATED THREE CHAPTERS! The past of one confronts another in a confusing and conspiring tale of quick wits and sarcasm…the alteration of the years inflicts upon them uncertainty and change.
1. The Sorting

AN: Hello, back again! How are you all doing? Well, I feel kinda silly saying this, but I just couldn't resist writing a Snape fanfic of my own…so I did. It's sort of weird, not really at all like my other story (ies). I hope you enjoy this…I'm off all week (regents, yay!) and so therefore a lot should be done…I have no idea how long this will go and whatnot, but do enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
  
D/C: (hey, this is a whole lot shorter than "disclaimer" all the time…). Okay, I don't own HP, (Harry Potter, as you know, but some people get confused with my shortening…) but I do own Emilia Black and likewise, please e-me before you run off w/ her (make sure to laugh evilly, of course)  
  
Chapter One: Denied  
  
Emilia Black walked into the halls of Hogwarts, her stomach fluttering and her hands shaking. This was her first job, and her first day teaching. She clap her hands together nervously, coming to the gargoyle that led to the Headmasters' office. She was debating whether or not to tell him the truth about her, as she had always almost done before. Every time, though, she stopped right before she reached his office. Emilia couldn't pull herself to go all the way.  
  
She took three steps back from the gargoyle, and turned to leave. Nope, she wasn't going to tell him today. The opening feast was in an hour, and she was going to be introduced to the entire school population. Her hands shook even more. Emilia looked down at them, willing her hands to stop shaking. Emilia looked up, and paused at the sight of the doors into the Great Hall.  
  
Up and up they went, into a grand arch. Emilia felt very small standing next to them. In fact, she always felt small. Most of the teachers felt that she wasn't experienced enough to take the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts. They felt that she was too young to understand the Dark Arts, let alone teach it.  
  
Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, tried to explain their unenthusiastic attitude to the new teachers. "It's not your position," he had explained. "It's just that every year, a teacher come and goes." Dumbledore was kind enough, she supposed. He didn't know the real reason why all those teachers didn't like her before they met her. She was only twenty-seven years old, the youngest present teacher here. And she was from the Black family, a prominent pureblood wizard line. He couldn't even begin to understand the discrimination she now faced every day she'd teach. It was as if she were in the same line as the Malfoy family.  
  
She had graduated from this very school ten years ago. Ever since then, she'd been abroad, searching for what she wanted to be when she finally got a job. It came as no surprise to most people when she began to indulge herself in the Dark Arts. On the outside, it looked like she was going to become a Death Eater. On the inside, she was fighting them. She hated all the Dark Arts possible, and she hated the fact that being a Black made her automatically categorized as a Death Eater. She began to find new ways to fight it. Emilia wanted to become an Auror, perhaps.  
  
But because she was a Black, she could not. No one would accept her applications. Finally she decided to take on the job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, in hopes that she could break the permanent tradition of her family. Dumbledore welcomed her. He was the only one.  
  
She knew, in the back of her mind, that they wouldn't accept her because she was indeed, too young. Never did she expect the kind of treatment she received.  
  
She put her hands on the door and pushed in slightly open, hearing the door creak open just a bit. The term hadn't started; therefore the Great Hall was closed. It was like as if the doors of the hall opening were to signal the start of a brand new year at Hogwarts. She pushed the doors open until they had swung back onto the wall behind them. A rush of warm air from the Great Hall breezed by her, ruffling her long curly hair.  
  
She stood there for a moment, her eyes grazing over the empty oak tables that would be filled very soon with students arriving on the Hogwarts Express. Gold silverware glittered, shining off the floating candles and the lighted torches along the side of the room. The ceiling, which had been bewitched to look like the outside, was cloudless, shimmering with dim stars, as night descended upon Hogwarts.  
  
"Why are you standing there?" a sharp voice snapped behind her. She jumped, not expecting anyone to break her deep thoughts, and turned around. It was Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and residing Slytherin Head of House. "Well?"  
  
She looked at him slowly. "I wasn't planning on staying here," she replied dryly. "I didn't know you were in such a hurry to get in here to meet all the little children you get to humiliate and make miserable this year." Emilia stepped to the side, and brushed past him. Emilia mentally smacked herself. If she was going to fit in, she was going to have to stop being sarcastic and snappish. After all these years of being shoved aside must have rubbed off on her, and if she was going to start anew, she was going to have to start being nice, even when others weren't.  
  
Emilia leaned against the wall just outside of the Great Hall. She didn't know why that man wanted her to move, or even why he commented. All she knew was that man was going to be a nuisance this year. He was probably the rudest of them all, even more so than that McGonagall character. She remembered well their first meeting: They were sitting at the meeting table, and before they left, he leaned over; the first thing he ever said to her was, "So, another Black has come to reek havoc on Hogwarts. Why don't you crawl under the hole you came out of?"  
  
Sighing, she glanced at the time and saw that the students were due to arrive any moment. Her stomach gave a little jolt. Emilia realized she was going to be made a spectacle in front of the entire student body. Her nervousness kicked in again.  
  
Professor Minerva McGonagall walked by her without saying a word, walking briskly to meet up with the first years to give them their little spiel of Hogwarts and their Houses. Fighting the urge to run, she walked into the hall to see Professor Dumbledore place the Sorting Hat onto the stool that would soon be seated by many first-years. Emilia walked up to and around the front table, until she reached her seat. Some of the students were filtering in, as well as some of the teachers. She stared at her seat, which was between McGonagall and Snape. Snape had already taken his place at the table, and did not notice her standing there. Blinking quickly, to fight back on-coming tears of fright, she pulled up her seat and sat down gracefully.  
  
Dumbledore sat down in his seat in the middle of the table, and curled his long fingers in thought. He placed his chin on them and glanced at the ceiling. Emilia turned away from him to see the Great Hall filling up fast, students pointing and whispering at her. She looked down, and her long black hair fell forward, covering her face. She knew that they were only curious, seeing as she was the only new teacher here this year, but the pointing and whispering was all too familiar. The teachers did that in the meeting room the first time she met them, and she has endured that all her life. She had hoped, by now, she could ignore it. But one can't ever ignore something like that, no matter how hard you try to distance yourself from the looks and points.  
  
Turning her head slightly, she noticed Snape was looking at around the hall, sneering at everything he saw. Snape was indeed, a sallow-faced, greasy haired man who had a known dislike for children. Why he taught was still a mystery to her. She looked around to where he was glancing at, and she realized that the youth and freshness of herself must contrast greatly with Snape's penetrating glare.  
  
Soon, the hall was full of abundant chatter. Students arriving from summer break had much to say, she noticed, as the hall was buzzing with excited talk. Almost all the teachers had arrived; on the other side of Snape, Flitwick and Sprout were talking animatedly. Opposite McGonagall's empty seat was Dumbledore; the head of Astronomy, Sinistra; Arithmancy's teacher, Vector; Care of Magical Creatures, Rubeus Hagrid; and after that, Divination's teacher, Sibyl Trelawny. Dumbledore turned to her slowly, noticing her stare.  
  
"Emilia," he said quietly, "you look nervous." There was a twinkle in his blue eyes.  
  
Emilia jumped from being addressed to. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, laughing a bit to wear off her uneasiness.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Not really. I usually expect new teachers to be a bit worried. Am I correct in saying that this is your first job?"  
  
Emilia nodded curtly. She was too strained to say more. She breathed in as McGonagall brought in the new students in quite a long line. Her stomach churned with anticipation.  
  
Suddenly the Sorting Hat, being watched by almost every student, began to sing:  
  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
  
Or think I'm worth to keep--  
  
I'm simply just a hat, you know,  
  
But my knowledge runs deep.  
  
You can keep all your other hats  
  
Sleek with shine and tall--  
  
But I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
  
And I can top them all.  
  
So pick me up, and try me on  
  
There's nothing I can't see.  
  
I'll look inside of your head  
  
To tell where you will be.  
  
You might be in brave Gryffindor  
  
Where dwell the very best;  
  
Or perhaps in loyal Hufflepuff  
  
Prized far beyond the rest.  
  
But maybe in wise Ravenclaw  
  
If you've a steady mind;  
  
Or rather ambitious Slytherin:  
  
There you'll seek your kind.  
  
Wherever you will be  
  
You'll be sure to find  
  
Those that are among you  
  
Will help you in a bind.  
  
Now pick me up or slip me on  
  
I will do all my might  
  
To tell you where you ought to go  
  
For I am always right!"  
  
The Great Hall exploded in applause. The hat, it seemed to Emilia, bowed for the students. It was quite a quirky little song.  
  
The first student was called to the front stool. Being a teacher, she could see this girl quite clearly, as she fearlessly approached the Sorting Hat. McGonagall lifted the hat and placed it on her head. The large hat slumped past her ears and covered her eyes. Some of the first years laughed, as well the girl being sorted, trying to break off the tension.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat suddenly yelled. There was thunderous applause at the table where she was heading. Beside her, Snape tutted loudly--she noticed he was scowling at the Gryffindor table as the girl was eagerly welcomed.  
  
McGonagall lifted the scroll again. "Beelzy, Amanda!"  
  
Another little girl ran to the front and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. A few moments later that hat yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
This continued on through "LeGrand, Daniel," ("Slytherin!") to "Primera, Vincent," ("GRYFFINDOR!") and finally to "Zambia, Calvin," ("RAVENCLAW!"). Emilia grew more and more anxious as the line got shorter and shorter, knowing that she would be introduced next.  
  
The line ended, and McGonagall took her seat next to Dumbledore, who in turn stood up. "Welcome," he said happily, his face shining. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I welcome all of those who are new, and all of those leaving us this year.  
  
Professor Sprout would like to make a note that Greenhouse Four is off-limits this year, as she is conducting an experiment for the Ministry of Magic. As always, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to everyone, as well as Hogsmeade to anyone below third year."  
  
He paused. Emilia felt her face flush; she was going to be introduced next, and she knew it. "I would also like to introduce a new teacher in our midst." She squeezed her eyes shut nervously, and opened them quickly. "Please welcome Professor Emilia Black, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
  
Emilia stood up quickly and bowed, sitting down even faster. There was a lot of applause, more than she expected. Dumbledore shot her a quick smile.  
  
"Lastly, enjoy this meal," he finished, waving his wand. Food appeared everywhere, every single dish looking as good as the next.  
  
The clapping was even louder when he finished, and soon the hall was loud once more with talk and eating. Emilia glanced over the dishes, and put very little of some on her plate. Silently, she began to eat. Next to her, McGonagall was talking quickly to Dumbledore. She wished that she were in McGonagall's seat; Dumbledore, she found, was the only one who talked civilly to her. That meant no side jokes about her family, or anything else.  
  
She ate rather quickly, and soon her plate (with what little was on it) was empty before anyone else's. Setting down her fork, she put her napkin on her plate and stood. She walked away from the table, the chatter and the joy getting to her. Must be nice, she thought dryly, to have someone to talk to.  
  
She exited the Great Hall and walked outside on the grounds. It was a warm night, even for September, and her deep green robes were keeping her pleasantly cool. Clasping her hands together, she walked along the path that led to practically everywhere from the main entrance. Looking up, she saw that she arrived at the lake. It was a full moon, and the light shined down on the lake, giving it a misty, romantic look. The mist from the warmer water curled in little rings, and there were only little calm, gentle waves on the surface.  
  
She sat down, running her hands over the dry, cool grass. It was rather pleasant, sitting there and enjoying the scenery. She really hadn't seen the place since she left it ten years ago.  
  
The quietness of the lake was eerie. Despite the fact she'd been up since five, she was wide-awake. The awareness of her surrounding was keeping her awake. She suddenly heard crunching noises and the sound of a breeze flapping inside clothing. Emilia stood, brushed of her robes, and turned around to see Snape. She sighed.  
  
"What is it? Have you come to ask me to move?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"No. The Headmaster wishes to see you," he said, scowling. "I don't know why you had to leave. Makes more work for me having to come and find you."  
  
"You don't have to," she snapped, walking forward. "Don't try doing people favors, Snape; it doesn't suit you."  
  
Snape crossed his arms and smirked. "I'm not doing anyone favors," he spat. "And there are a lot of things that don't suit people. Like, your job, or your bloodlines, for instance."  
  
"Like yours are any better, Snape?" she snarled. "I may not be a Death Eater, but at least I never was one."  
  
That last comment hit him hard. He gave her a look of deepest loathing; one that was entitled to kill and bury someone. She, in turn, glared right back; she had no patience for this type of mockery. "What, no retort?"  
  
"I am above that sort of childish play," he sneered, narrowing his black eyes.  
  
She started to walk up the path. "Then don't invoke it, Snape, if you can't finish it."  
  
Snape followed close behind her; it looked like he didn't trust he farther than the length of his pointed nose. Stupid prat, she thought darkly.  
  
After their gaunt walk to the castle, Emilia realized something and stopped short. "Why did Dumbledore send you?" she asked disdainfully.  
  
"Because," he answered, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, "he trusts me with the more important duties. Unfortunately, I hoped it wouldn't require being his personal messenger for some little girl." He walked briskly right by her.  
  
Emilia suppressed the urge to hit him until he bled; instead, she followed silently and closely behind him until they reached the familiar gargoyle that opened the passage to Dumbledore's office. "Sugar Quill," he muttered absentmindedly, and the gargoyle moved aside to reveal a passage that lead up a winding staircase.  
  
Snape rapped on the door three times and moved aside so that she could go in. Snape leaned in, and snarled in her ear, "Should I have to look for you ever again, you will regret it. Don't ever do that again. I'm not some bloody search dog."  
  
Smiling, she muttered back, "Could have fooled me, mutt," and entered Dumbledore's office. Emilia felt like saying something else, but decided against it. Instead, she glanced around his room; she saw it was in an oval shape, with Dumbledore reading behind his desk. The Sorting Hat stood upon the stool, which was showered in feathers from a most peculiar bird, whose gold and red feathers shone rather brilliantly in the dimly light room. Cupboards and bookshelves line the outside; books upon books were everywhere. Notes, papers and accessories were sticking out of odd places. A quill was perched atop an interesting-looking bowl. Emilia felt very uncomfortable in this office. It was very much unlike her own; she was an organizational freak.  
  
"Emilia! Please, come in. I'm quite sorry to have to disturb you; I plum forgot to mention a couple things to you that I though you might like to know," Dumbledore said, closing his book and standing as she entered the room. "Care for some hot chocolate?" She noticed there was quite a twinkle in his eye, and for reading a book about killing vampires, was rather amused.  
  
"Quite all right, Professor, and sure, I would most enjoy a cup," said Emilia, smiling.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and pulled two mugs with a teapot out of the thin air, setting it on his desk. Pouring it carefully, he said softly, "It's Albus, Emilia."  
  
She went slightly pink. "Professor, you were the Headmaster in my time; I can't call you by your name…. It wouldn't feel right."  
  
He handed her the pink cup, and took one for himself. "Of course, I understand. Please, have a seat." He motioned to the chair behind her.  
  
"What is it that you need, Professor?" she asked, sitting. Emilia took a sniff from the huge mug; the cup barely allowed her hands to reach around it. It smelled absolutely delightful.  
  
"As you know, at the beginning of this summer, one of my brightest students died," he said slowly.  
  
Emilia swallowed hard. "Cedric Diggory. Yes, I know his father--he works in the Ministry."  
  
"Yes, of course. Did you, by chance, hear how he died?"  
  
Emilia paused. "I have learned some of it…." She drifted off. "It was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, correct?"  
  
"Yes. And please, use his proper name, Voldemort," he replied, and Emilia flinched. Like almost every wizard in the wizarding world, Voldemort still caused many people to shun his name; the wizard who tore apart many families and was the root of most of the Muggle killings.  
  
Emilia was only fourteen or fifteen when it happened; she remembered he parents, coming home in the late nights of the summer, with their Death Eater friends: Malfoy, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle…. She remembered them all very well. The way they talked about the killings, the fact that they were the highest of Voldemort supporters--  
  
Emilia looked down from Dumbledore's penetrating glance. He didn't know about any of that. No one did. "Yes, well, he killed him with the Killing Curse, correct?"  
  
"Unfortunately so. Harry Potter, once again," he paused, smiling with pride, "escaped. He is under constant surveillance. I would like you to instruct him in the different ways of defending oneself from such attacks. Everything you know, that could be of help to him. He's facing dark times ahead."  
  
"Of course, Headmaster," she said. "Anything else?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, unless there is something you wish to tell me?" He must know, she thought, that I want—no, need—to tell him something. She shook her head—both to herself, and to Dumbledore. No, she won't tell him. Not quite yet, anyway.  
  
"Nothing, Professor," she replied, standing quickly. She walked over to the table and set the mug on it. "Good night, Professor."  
  
"And you too, Emilia." He glanced down at the mug.  
  
It was completely full. 


	2. A Bit Of Change

AN: Welcome to chapter two of my extremely weird yet lame story. My sense of humour might be lost on me, but hey, you might think this is cute. Don't expect romance too soon, I'm building up the plot first.  
  
Oops, did I say romance? Sorry, I mean anything else "cool".  
  
D/C: Don't even think about taking my spiffy song w/out asking me first! The sorting hat song in the last chapter, I mean. Anyhow, toodles, I don't own HP but I do own Emilia Black. ::smooches:: Bye!  
  
Chapter Two: Lied  
  
Emilia awoke the next morning dreading the next coming days; she was beginning to teach her classes, each one full of brand new students, and she had no idea what to expect from these children—her students. She dragged herself to the sink and washed up; continued by twisted her hair up into an elegant yet messy bun; then slipped on her robes for the day; finished by grabbing her wand, and headed out. Most nervously, she added.  
  
She arrived on time at the Great Hall to spend her fifteen antisocial minutes eating, when she found that the entire school body seemed to be there. Suppressing a sigh, she walked in and sat down. Piling a little bit of food onto her plate, she ate rather nervously. Her stature and her view of her moves were very simplistic: she knew the students would view her as a pushover class and find that it would be easy to get her nerved and disrupted.  
  
She glanced up, and saw the entire school body chatting aimlessly. A loud flutter of wings told her the Owl Post was here; her own owl, Sagittarius, was no where to be seen. She turned back to her food, which she found, was completely gone. Emilia had an excuse to leave. She backed her chair up—o  
  
—right into Severus Snape. She had slammed the back of her chair right into his stomach, as he was walking by.  
  
Wheezing, he managed to snarl, "Watch where you are backing up!"  
  
Emilia stood up. "Watch where you're walking, then," she snapped, just as angrily.  
  
He looked up at her, glaring furiously. "I just happened to be walking by when you back up you chair. How am I supposed to know a tramp like you would try to do that on purpose?!"  
  
"Well," she sneered, "if I were a tramp, I wouldn't back up on you, of all people, you cold-hearted son of a—"  
  
"That's enough!" a voice interrupted. It was Professor McGonagall. "Everyone is watching. Please, either stop or take this elsewhere!" she screeched. Anyone not watching before was now, and the entire room was in a murmured silence.  
  
Emilia stood up straight and brushed off her robes. "I haven't anymore to say to this scum. Good day, McGonagall," she replied sarcastically, and walked out of the room. To her surprise, everyone started clapping loudly. Emilia glanced at Snape, whose cheeks were slightly pink. She didn't think men like that could ever be embarrassed. Laughing at the applause, she walked out of the room in worse spirits then she entered.  
  
When she left the sight of the Great Hall, her shoulders slumped, and she walked a bit more slowly. Her stomach hurt, from the guilt of embarrassing Snape. It wasn't her nature to embarrass others, just put them in their place. And putting him in his place at the expense of his reputation among the students was rather wrong, she thought, looking back. And she couldn't justify it by saying, "Well, his did call me a tramp."  
  
Walking into her classroom, which was situated on the third floor (as it always was), she walked down the stairs leading the head of the classroom. In thirty minutes, it would be filled with her first class, a group of Gryffindor fifth-years. She glanced up and down the room. In the middle of the room was a set of wide sweeping stairs blanketed in polished oak. The stairs lead to rows of one long desk, which was symmetrical to that on the right side. The head of the room held one rather small desk, which was organized with file-holders and file cabinets next to it. A grand blackboard decorated the space behind her, and to her left was a small table, where she planned to keep specimens of what she hoped were interesting creatures.  
  
Students began to file into her classroom, taking random seats wherever they were available. Emilia walked over to her desk and sat down, piling her papers up. Soon, the room was full of abundant chatter. Standing up when the bell rang, she walked to the front of the room, to which was replied with silence. She cleared her throat. "Good Morning," she said brightly, "and welcome to your first Defense Against the Dark Arts Class.  
  
"This year we will be finishing what Professor Moody had started, and then we will continue with Hexes and Jinxes, which should hopefully correspond with your Charms class. I'm warning you all now, at the end of the first term will be a paper that coincides with your Charms paper." She paused to hear groans from the class. It was to be expected. "You will have plenty of time, don't worry. And, I think you'll find this class rather interesting and fun, (so long as you do your homework and come prepared). I daresay, more fun, compared to Potions," she added wryly.  
  
All of them laughed. One young gentleman stood up and said, "Hear, hear!", which made them all laugh even harder. It was quite wonderful, to hear children laugh. It reminded her how much she enjoyed teaching someone. It'd been a long time.  
  
"So, with that, I should like to teach you a bit about the Reverse Spell Effect. This type of spell allows the wand to repeat the spell, incantation or whatnot again. This spell will cause your wand to betray you.  
  
"Another thing to note about the Reverse Spell Effect is that there is a special bond between wands of the same core. This is known as Priori Incantatem, and anyone who was…killed…by that wand, memories or reflections of those people would appear. The spell itself, meaning the Reverse Spell Effect, is Prior Incantato!  
  
"Is there anything else anyone can tell me?" she asked, almost hopefully.  
  
A girl's hand raised dutifully in the air. "Yes, and you are…?" Emilia asked.  
  
"Professor Black, I'm Hermione Granger," she said confidently, and continued, "and there is one more thing about the Reverse Spell Effect. It is useless against the reverse of Disarming and Stunning Spells."  
  
Emilia nodded her consent. "Of course, Miss Granger. That is correct. Five points to Gryffindor," she said, smiling.  
  
She pulled out her wand, and murmured, "Orchideous!" to which a bouquet of flowers emerged from the end of her wand. "Now, I shall demonstrate the Reverse Spell Effect," and turned to a boy in the front row to perform this. "Can I ask you your name, please?"  
  
The boy had a round face and was rather bumbling for a fifth year. "Neville Longbottom, Professor," he replied quietly.  
  
"All right then, Mr. Longbottom, please perform this spell," she asked.  
  
Neville looked around the room, and then finally turned to the teacher. "I don't know—"  
  
"I wouldn't let him near a wand with a fifty foot pole, if I were you, Black," a voice said from the top of the room.  
  
"Pardon?" she said, looking up. It was Professor Snape, standing in the doorway, his back against the wall, and his arms crossed.  
  
"You heard me," he replied, unfolding his arms and walking down with a stack of papers. He shoved them into her hands and turned around. "If the teachers haven't informed you yet, this is Neville Longbottom. I should trust you not to give him anything too difficult, unless you want half the building aflame."  
  
"I think I can pick out my own opinions, Snape," she replied tersely, setting the paper packet onto her desk. "And don't interrupt my classes."  
  
"These papers couldn't wait. Besides, it's not like you were hired for your competence."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Take it as you will, Professor," he sneered, implying her position as a joke, and walked out.  
  
Emilia glared at his retreating back, and turn to Neville. "Don't worry about him, Longbottom, I'll talk to him later. You don't deserve that sort of mockery," she paused. "Anyway, would you like to perform the task?"  
  
"Professor Snape's right," Neville Longbottom replied softly. "I don't think I can. Please, ask someone else."  
  
Emilia furrowed her brow. He may act like that to his students in his class, but he did not have the right to do it in hers.  
  
She turned to the sandy-haired boy sitting beside Neville. "I believe that you are Seamus Finnigan?" she asked. The boy nodded. "Please," she said, holding out her wand, "do the Reverse Spell Effect."  
  
The freckled boy pulled out his wand, and said, "Prior Incantato!" to which a small bouquet of flowers burst out of the end of her wand.  
  
"That's correct! Ten points to Gryffindor for such a grand demonstration. Now, I want all of you to take turns performing simple spells and testing out this new incantation." She gathered up the papers of names. "Now, I'll be pairing you up right now by names, until I've seen what you all can do, and then I'll start to pair you all up by ability.  
  
"Now, let's see…Finnigan and Thomas…Longbottom and Granger…Patil and Brown…Potter and Weasley…" and she continued down the list, pairing up random names. "You have until five of. No serious spells, and if I see any fooling around, you'll be out of here faster than you can say, 'Detention', got it?"  
  
The class paired up quickly, and began to perform the spells they were instructed. Hopefully, that smart Granger girl could show Longbottom a hint or two of confidence; she was quite sure that Snape was the root of his low competency.  
  
She picked up the packet of papers that Snape couldn't wait to hand to her. It was a couple of important memos, and then there was a newspaper clipping. She absentmindedly placed the memos back on the table, and began to read the article.  
  
Inquiry at the Ministry  
  
At twelve o'clock noon yesterday, a non-magical person (commonly known as a Muggle) caught sight of Sirius Black just north of London, apparently near what we know as Diagon Alley. It appears he has tried to fix his appearance, but this Muggle phoned in anyway; by the time the Ministry arrived, Black was gone. We got sight of the Muggle, and asked for a comment.  
  
"I never knew it was such a big deal," the Muggle says, "I just thought he looked familiar, but couldn't place it that a criminal could be so open about his whereabouts."  
  
The Minister refuses to comment on the subject, but his correspondent says fiercely, "Black can't stand a chance; we'll catch him!"  
  
Why did Sirius Black dare show himself around Muggles, especially in such a populated area? Assurance that he wouldn't be recognized? Until he is caught, it seems that the Ministry will start another thorough search.  
  
Emilia gasped. No wonder why Snape was so keen on shoving his into her face as soon as possible. He wanted to see her reaction about this. He must think that they were related; how silly of him. Emilia's line was the mainstream line of his break off. She felt her blood boil; how dare he interrupt her class for this garbage?!  
  
Emilia looked at the clock, and saw it was five after. "All right class, let's call it quits. You homework assignment is to find out who invented this spell and write about his other important accomplishments. That's all. Potter, see me after class," she said tersely, slamming the paper upon the table.  
  
The class began to gather their books and quills, when one of the boys raised their hands. "Yes?"  
  
"Was it you this morning, Professor, that stood up to Professor Snape?"  
  
Emilia blinked. "Yes, of course. Why?"  
  
The student grinned. "We're happy finally someone put Snape in his place."  
  
Emilia looked up at him. "It was wrong of me to do that; it was setting a poor example for you students."  
  
The class shook their heads enthusiastically. "Professor, we've been waiting for someone to do that!"  
  
Emilia smiled wryly. "Just wait until you get to Potions," she said quietly. "You definitely won't be enjoying that class if I know Snape."  
  
The bell rang, and it was the start of the next class. Emilia sighed. A skinny boy with rather untidy black hair walked up to her desk. "Professor Black?"  
  
Emilia looked up at him. "Ah, yes, Potter. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you some tips on the regular defense against the wonders of the Dark Arts," she said. "I daresay you need much help with that, eh?"  
  
He grinned. "Of course, any help is great," he replied. "Professor Dumbledore talked to me yesterday about that. What time do you want me to come in?"  
  
Emilia nodded. "Yes, that, let's see…" she rummaged through the pile of papers that lay there, and found her date-book. The newspaper clipping fell to the floor as she picked up the book.  
  
He bent down and picked up the paper obligingly as she filed through the months to September. She heard an audible gasp.  
  
Looking up quickly, she saw him place the article on the table quickly. "What?" she asked.  
  
"Er, nothing Professor…" he said, and went rather red. Pausing for a moment, he blurted out, "Yes, there is something. Are you related to Sirius Black?"  
  
"Heavens no, Potter. Not directly, anyway. I do believe our great- great-great grandmother married a Muggle, to which our families took different roads," she said quietly.  
  
He lowered his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
"No, I was quite expecting it," she laughed. "Nothing like being a Black to bring up questions like those." Or all those other questions. She pointed to Thursday. "Potter, I know you've got Quidditch practices coming up soon, but how about Thursdays, say, seven o'clock?"  
  
"That's fine," he said quickly. "I've got to be going now. I've…I've got Potions," he added sourly.  
  
"Yes, of course. Here, I'll write you a note," she said, taking the newspaper clipping and turning it over to the blank side. She scribbled an excuse to Snape, saying there was something she needed to discuss with Potter, and that was why he was late. She smiled. Down towards the bottom she added: "Snape, the joke's on you: I'm not related to Sirius at all, and if you do that again, I'll send straight for the Headmaster."  
  
The next couple of classes went by quickly, she thought. Finally it was lunchtime, and she was dreading going down to the Great Hall. She didn't want to hear Snape. She could already formulate his words: "How dare you hold one of my students back?!" or about her 'threat': "Tell the Headmaster what? I sent you a newspaper clipping?"  
  
Either way, it sounded silly. She wasn't even really that hungry. So she headed to the library to look up some defenses Potter could find useful.  
  
She walked into the library to find that girl, Hermione Granger (wasn't it?), sitting there with a fairly large book. It was only their first day back, and she supposed Snape wouldn't pin that much homework on them. Or would he? He was one of those people to be really bad in foul moods. That made her feel guilty: she caused these students to have so much homework. And if that was the case, she wouldn't be much of a popular teacher. It would please her nothing more than to be better than Snape. In fact, it even made her laugh a bit. Snape certainly made himself to be quite a fearful teacher; Neville Longbottom happened to be the product of this.  
  
She grazed over the many books that she could use, but none of them caught her eye. Emilia sighed. She'd probably have to search even further, and to her dismay, her stomach began to grumble quietly. Emilia was a bit hungrier then even she supposed.  
  
Scowling slightly, she walked to the Great Hall. It was full of laughter and chatter, and this made her almost frown. She wasn't really in the mood for happiness. Emilia pulled up her seat and shoved a small helping onto her plate, eating quickly. Snape wasn't there. She didn't know whether or not he'd been there, or had yet to arrive. Either way, she didn't really want to stick around to find out or not.  
  
A black figure was standing next to her, and it felt like a chill entered the room. Snape had pulled up his seat next to her. "Quite a nice note you sent me, Black," he sneered.  
  
Emilia finished her bite, and swallowed—a bit harder than she would have liked. "By what do you mean, Snape?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come to finish your conversation on why I wasn't hired for my competence? There's more of an audience here to hear your views."  
  
Snape smirked. "Enjoyed that, did you? And what about you going to the Headmaster? For what, a bloody newspaper article?"  
  
Emilia set down her fork. She didn't want the murder weapon in her hand when she was through with this conversation. "No. For one, you interrupted my class for no good reason. Secondly, you insulted me in front of the entire class. I don't know whether or not they understood what you said, but I did, and that counts more than the entire room. Thirdly, you make a complete biased accusation about the fact that Sirius and I happen to share the same last name. Can I count for you in the Muggle phonebook the number of Smiths that aren't related, except for the fact that they happen to share the same last name?"  
  
His smirked broadened. "Tsk, Black, you've yet to understand my nature."  
  
"What, you live on looking for ways to make an ass out of people?"  
  
His black eyes narrowed. "Let's talk about this morning, shall we? I'm pretty sure I made it clear to all my classes the reason they have two essays due tomorrow is by all means thanks to you. Let's see your classes enjoy your teaching now."  
  
Emilia sighed angrily, listening to him speak. "How dare you? How dare you pin your incompetence on your students, and blame your foul mood on me?!"  
  
"I think I just did," he snarled, turning back to his food.  
  
"Snape, you are a capital prick," she replied quietly. "If we weren't having this lovely conversation in the middle of the Great Hall, I'd have hexed you by now."  
  
"Can you promise me this?" he replied dryly. "Upholding the Black tradition? You know, one wise man said those who can not think, fight."  
  
Emilia raised her hand unconsciously. Without even proceeding to think, she had brought her hand down on his face, straight across the cheekbone, right where it stung the most. With tears in her eyes, she stormed out of the Great Hall wordlessly, ignoring all the penetrating stares. To her left, someone muttered, "I'm coming to mealtimes everyday. This is so cool!" Another one said, "I wonder who will win this fight? Mealtimes are getting pretty interesting."  
  
Emilia turned the corner sharply, ripping her robe on the corner of the wall, cutting shallowly into her skin. She didn't care. She only wanted to walk as fast as she could out of there. As far away form Snape. How about Antarctica?  
  
She kept on walking, until her legs burned from the pace she was forcing upon them. Her face was tear streaked, and yet she found it very consoling she was able to feel something.  
  
She had finally been able to work where she was leading herself to, and saw it was her classroom on the third floor. She looked about the classroom, and suddenly, she realized, everything was much too neat. Emilia nearly had to physically restrain herself from smashing anything; she did, after all have classes in an hour. Instead, she walked down to her desk, put her head in her arms, and cried.  
  
For the first time in her life, she cried about everything. She cried about the fact she was a Black, to the teachers' discrimination; from the loneliness she felt, to her past, and all the death and violence in between; from the nervousness of teaching to Snape's cruel comments and even cruder jokes. She positively bawled, crying into her arms like the could save her. Finally, after many minutes, she found she could not cry anymore. She raised her head to see a blurry classroom. Emilia suspected she looked affright, and got up, moved swiftly to the bathroom, and washed her face. She finally noticed the stabbing pain in her arm, and looked at it. It was sort of not noticeable, so she left it be. It was a reminder of the fact that she had just shown weakness…to the enemy. When she was satisfied she looked like herself, she came back into the classroom and prepared herself to teach.  
  
She was expecting to see no one, so imagine the look of surprise on her face when she saw Snape lounging casually in her seat at her desk. 


	3. Now Or Never

AN: Back again, with chapter three. It's not interesting love-wise, to say the least, but I'm not going to make this easy on any of them. Like Emilia thought, "People don't change overnight," and therefore, neither will they. So, here's chapter three (yay!) and please, read and review! Sorry I had to change the chapter names; they are still the same chapters.  
  
Chapter Three: Now or Never  
  
"What are you doing here?!" she exclaimed loudly, throwing her hands into the air. "Get out of my classroom! Don't you have classes soon, as well?!"  
  
Snape only looked at her calmly, tapping his fingers on the oak desk. "What's it to you?"  
  
"Out!" she screeched, walking over and swinging the chair around away from the desk. She pointed to the door, her face flushed with fury. If it were anyone she did not want to see now, it definitely had to be him. "Out!" she repeated, a little bit louder than the first time she had yelled it. Quietly, she added, "Can you comprehend this? Do I have to drag you out?"  
  
Snape stood up nonchalantly, walking over to her. "Once again, I must ask, what is it to you?"  
  
"I don't know what the heck you're talking about, but whatever it is, I don't care. Leave, now. I've got my third class in fifteen minutes."  
  
"And so have I. I'm not worrying about it, am I?"  
  
She backed up, confused. Why wasn't he leaving? What exactly was he intending to do? Stay and watch her teach?  
  
"What is it that you want, because it looks like you aren't leaving until you…er…" she paused, backing up a couple of steps. She hit the wall behind her with a soft thud, and tried not to look too surprised. "What is it that you want?" she finished, her back down firmly against the wall. She folded her arms casually; all she wanted to look like now was that she was intending to lean against the wall like that.  
  
"What is it that I want? I want you to apologize to me for the horrid way you treated me in the lunchroom in front of all those students," he replied, walking forward to her.  
  
"A-apologize?" she stuttered. His face smirked a bit. "You have to apologize first. You started it, the whole bit about my family."  
  
"If you start there, then you must apologize for threatening me with the Headmaster."  
  
"If you go there, then what about disrupting my class?"  
  
"And what about the whole bit in the Great Hall?"  
  
"What about when I first arrived? You started everything. Everything about my family, and me— you started it. You, not me, started it, you miserable old coot."  
  
"What are we, grade school vocabulary? Haven't got anything more intelligent to say?" he replied, now dangerously close to her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face expressionless. He smiled, a very grim smile, but a smile none-the-less. Emilia crossed her arms tighter around her. This situation hit too close to home…  
  
Suddenly, the bell rang, and Snape moved swiftly away from her. "I can't apologize for your incompetence, Black," he said loftily, walking casually away.  
  
Emilia breathed a loud sigh, feeling her knees buckle out from underneath her. Damn him. Damn him for getting close. And…damn her for almost enjoying it.  
  
Emilia only saw him around mealtimes, and yet that was too much. Knowing that she couldn't stick just on meager meals, she began to eat a bit more. Which meant longer time in the Great Hall and every mealtime in the Great Hall. The food was very rich, but she didn't dislike it. In fact, it was the first time she'd had proper food since she was seventeen.  
  
Once again, dinner proved to be quite a fun exchange of words between her and Snape. She began to see that the only communication with his "own" kind (she was sure he was some sort of alien by now) was by provoking and insulting. Pity she couldn't rise above it. Emilia had too much pride, and she was stubborn. Not to mention she couldn't resist getting the last word. She hated when people tried to be better than she is when they…weren't. Therefore, she couldn't help rising to his provoking offense comments.  
  
At least she didn't slap him. She sat there quietly eating dinner after the episode in her room. It was really confusing to her why he did what he did. She supposed he was just getting her back for making a fool out of him when she slapped him. Not that he did deserve it, of course. Looking back, she should have found a better way to rising to his bait. Something a little less…Black like. He was right, sort of. She was no better than they were.  
  
Depressing thought, really. She stirred her pudding on her plate absent-mindedly. She had her chin on her hand, leaning it on the table. Sighing, she continued to stir. It was somewhat…comforting. She actually ate a decent meal.  
  
Snape noticed this. "What, is not everything happy in Black land?" he sneered.  
  
"Why is it that the only time you talk to me is to insult me? Can't you even hold a decent conversation?" she replied, putting her hands on her lap. Emilia looked at him.  
  
"If I could find enough intelligence in this god-forsaken building, sure, I could hold a decent conversation," he snapped.  
  
"Fine. I think I qualify as intelligence. What is it like to be surrounded all day by students performing potions?" she asked, oblivious to his indiscreet insult to her. Well, not oblivious. Just choosing not to be provoked.  
  
"It's hell," he replied simply, yet just as nasty. "You can only imagine a bunch of inadequate children messing around with extremely dangerous potions for a day. Then multiply the ego factor."  
  
Emilia had to restrain herself from replying. It was oh-too simple to say, "You're ego factor is how much? 10 billion?" She bit her lip. "I know what that's like. You get those students who think they should be teaching the class themselves. More or less, that's the Slytherins, though."  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I'm the Head of Slytherin House, Black."  
  
Emilia looked over at him with a loopy sort of smile. "I know," she answered playfully. It was finally nice to have a conversation that didn't end with him either slapped or embarrassed in front of the entire school body. Really nice, actually.  
  
He turned back to his food, obviously keen on ending their conversation. Emilia stomach sank. "Er, Snape, sorry," she said, looking away from him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sorry," she repeated, still looking down at her plate.  
  
"Thought so. Quite unusual to hear an apology from a Black," he replied. Emilia's face turned quickly to him, her hand noticeably clenched into a fist. "Er, I mean that in a good way," he added quickly. Emilia smiled. Turning back to her own plate, she obligingly finished her own meal, in quite a better mood.  
  
Emilia stood and pushed in her own chair. "You know, Black seems so…formal. We are, after all, colleagues. Please call me Emilia," she said quickly. She turned to leave.  
  
His hand caught her wrist, as she passed by his seat. He stood up. "Sure, then, Emilia," he said, walking by her, as if not to appear too inconspicuous. As he walked by her, he whispered, "It's Severus, then."  
  
She watched him leave as quickly as he came. Standing there for a moment before she gathered herself up, she walked out with her head held high. There was no way he could change like that so quickly. She wasn't a fool. Emilia, thinking back, saw right through his moves. He just didn't want to make a fool of himself again by her hand. Really simple, actually. People don't change like that. She should know, of all people. He was just trying to get her so that when he does decide to fight back, she wouldn't be ready. Trying to make her loose her edge. Throwing her off, even. People like Severus Snape don't change overnight, and they definitely don't extend a hand of friendship. Especially to people like her.  
  
Emilia walked into her room, and glanced about it. It was on the fifth floor, in one of the miscellaneous towers that extended from that floor. She had to climb about four staircases to reach it. The room itself, though, was worth the walk. Her bed had maroon curtains, and quite wonderful in the winter months, she was assured. Her trunk lay forgotten; all of the robes and other necessities were placed in their respective drawers. The room was, in fact, very neat and clean, and everything in its place. She sighed. Sometimes she could be so boring.  
  
What a long day, she supposed. In fact, it felt like a lifetime crammed into 24 hours. Very interesting that so much could happen in just one day. She'd been here, at this school, for about three weeks already, over the summer and preparing for her job. What confused her the most is how the people acted.  
  
Most of the Gryffindors were nice. There were a precious few who disliked her, but what could she expect? Some of them got on her nerves, and others she thought were simply darling. The Ravenclaws were smart and studious, just like the Sorting Hat's story said. They weren't really much fun to be around. Bit of a drag, actually. The Hufflepuffs were kind enough, but some of them were very biased. The Slytherins surprised her. They acted either all that or they didn't act. Those who knew her bloodline were impressed and most kind to her. She felt disgusted by that sort of behavior. Then, there was those who knew she'd gone her own way and felt that she was wrong to resist the Dark Lord. For instance, Parkington's daughter was very rude, and Macnair's son was very insulting. Then there were those that…surprised her in the way they acted. Like that Malfoy boy. He certainly was interesting. Extremely sappy to her, obviously pleased with Dumbledore's choice on "such a pureblood", as she heard walking around the class.  
  
Really, in truth, it was the teachers she was most bewildered at. Flitwick and Sprout, she noticed, were being sort of nice (they actually talked to her after their first committee meeting). Some, like McGonagall, tutted loudly when she talked and frowned upon her every move. Only Dumbledore, even now, still talked to her nicely. Then there was Snape.  
  
Snape. Such an interesting man, he was. He only talked to her to insult her. The difference being, he was the only one to talk to her. No one, in three weeks, had talked to her but Dumbledore and Snape. Snape, being of course, the cause of her nervousness (to which was discarded after five minutes of her first class). He was vicious at times, yet, like at dinner, he was almost civil. He confused her very much. Why did he do that? Why was he in her classroom after lunch? Waiting for her to apologize or was something else there? Maybe, she was supposing too much. He could have just been looking through her desk. He would, too, him being who he was. And what was that whole name thing? Why had she done that, when he made a fool of her in front of her class and everything else about her family? Impulse, she supposed. Well, impulse sucks. Because, she thought dryly, this looks very bad. It looked like she…never mind it.  
  
She couldn't. She wouldn't dare. She can't even think about it. This was Snape. This was Snape! She wouldn't even dare to allow herself to think toward that. She can't possibly…but perhaps it was too late. Her stomach did a flip-flop. Deny, deny, and deny…. No, she wouldn't even think about that. She remembered all too well what happens when you start thinking that way. She would push it away, until forever and a day. She didn't live by the "It's now or never," line. She lived by the line, "Never."  
  
Crawling into her bed, she pushed her hair into a sloppy bun atop her head. Never, she supposed, is a very long time.  
  
Happily, the next few months were without incident. Halloween came and went; winter was fast approaching and the grounds were permanently in a frost. Potter's extra defense classes were going brilliantly, and were now join by his friend Ron Weasley, and his girlfriend (or what she assumed to be; they seemed to be rather close), Hermione Granger. Her classes were finally becoming much more interesting, and soon she found that students enjoyed coming to her class. It certainly reflected on Snape, anyway. Since most of her classes were going to his, he ended up with happy students. This made him extremely miserable.  
  
The first-name basis died instantly the next day. As soon as she saw him at breakfast, he hissed his usual greeting of making fun of either her family or the fact she was young, either way it ended most pronounced "Black", like he was spitting out a dirty name. This continued on, both of them insulting each other. Emilia even caught McGonagall smile appreciatively when she had Snape beaten even before he'd started. The one thing she noticed is that she never started any of these.  
  
Their hallway-encounters were very much the same. "Tramp," he spat, to which she'd reply, "Male-chauvinistic pig"--his "Inbred," to her "Having a miserable life?": it was the same day in, day out.  
  
After a few weeks of this, McGonagall began to warm up a bit. While Snape only got nastier, the rest of them got slightly nicer. Flitwick squeaked a "Hello," to her sometimes; Sprout nodded her head in the hall. McGonagall even talked to her sometimes at mealtimes. Even more than "Pass the gravy".  
  
Emilia didn't feel at home as when she did in her schooldays, but it was better then before, a bit. She'd heard some of her students talking about her. More or less the whole, "D'you think she's going to stay after this year?" and something she found very interesting, "I don't know if she will. It's a known fact that Snape's envied this job for quite a bit of time."  
  
This made her smile. No wonder why Snape was such a prick to her. He envied her job. Not to mention the "Underage, not even above consent," (to which she frowned on this and replied, "Like you are old, there, Snape—what, looking for a good time?") to "How's the heir of Death doing?". Everything came down to her. What was it about her that made him want to wish only ill upon her? Quite frankly, she was pretty sure she hadn't done anything more than reply to his taunts.  
  
One day McGonagall came to see her after dinner. She rapped on her door three times.  
  
"Yes?" Emilia answered. She walked over to the door, and opened it slowly. She saw McGonagall in her usual tight-haired bun, and her normal black robes. "Come in," she said, although she was pretty sure there was a hint of surprise in her voice. She stepped aside and opened the door wider. McGonagall came in, brushing off her robes unconsciously.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, almost smiling. McGonagall was a strict but fair woman, and she didn't have much to say on a sense of humor.  
  
Emilia walked over to the small kettle she'd been preparing. Time to be nice, she thought to herself. "I was just about to make some tea. Would you are for some?" she asked tentatively.  
  
"Yes, sure, thanks" she replied, still standing, and glancing around a bit. She was somewhat impressed that the room was in such a neat state.  
  
"Sorry!" Emilia apologized, looking up at her. "Please, have a seat," she said, using her wand to magically move a chair over to where McGonagall was standing, scooped her up, and moved her to the small table in the middle of the room. "Tea should be ready in a bit, just put the kettle on," she explained needlessly, pulling out a tea set from the cabinet next to the fireplace. It had silver moons and shiny gold stars sprinkled over them, but not in a childish way. She set them down, one in front of McGonagall and one in front of her. The teapot lay over near the small bench next to the fireplace. Emilia pulled herself a seat, and sat quietly. Folding her hands, she rested her chin lightly on them. "What is it that you need, Professor?" Emilia still didn't feel comfortable calling anyone by his or her name. It seemed so…odd, and even more awkward than she needed.  
  
"Please, it's Minerva," she said, waving her hand somewhat impatiently at Emilia's protests. "And I've come to have a bit of a…chat. I want to…apologize…for my behavior. I've been less than friendly to you."  
  
Emilia opened her mouth to say, "Well, at least you haven't taken on the responsibility it insult me," when McGonagall continued. "I just want to ask you a couple of things, and perhaps, you know…be friends."  
  
Emilia nearly had to shake herself not to glance sideways at her (and ask her where the real McGonagall was being held on the Mother Ship) when she instead pulled herself together. "Er, Minerva, it's quite all right. At least you haven't been nearly as mean as Snape has," she replied quietly.  
  
Minerva smiled. "Yes, I do wish to ask you about that. What is going on between you two? Obviously hatred is a bit strong word to use here—"  
  
"It's not hatred," she interrupted, "it's loathing to the highest degree. He's definitely got a way to make one feel at home when you're new," she said, somewhat sarcastically. Minerva smiled a bit.  
  
"Yes, well, that's Severus for you," she said, looking down at the teacup. Emilia got up to check the water, which was now hissing loudly. She pulled it off the fireplace and set it on the pad on the bench, and took care to pour it into the teapot.  
  
"I've been meaning to ask you," Emilia replied, still pouring the hot liquid, her back to Minerva, "What is the matter with him? Why does he insist on offending me? Is it his sport, or something?" Emilia set the pot down, and picked up the teapot, along with two tea bags. "Sorry for the teabags, haven't been to Hogsmeade to pick up any tea leaves," she apologized, and started to pour the water.  
  
"Severus…well, I do suppose it is his sport to make fun of people. He does take much pride in that," she added, dunking the teabag absent- mindedly into her cup. "I don't know about you…think of it this way. He's preoccupied with insulting you; he's not insulting the students. Especially those in Gryffindor."  
  
"Yes, well, I can deal with it a bit better than they can," she admitted, shaking her head slightly. "I just don't understand why he insists upon me though. Isn't there anyone else he can take his misery on?" She took a sip from her cup, and made a face. It obviously was still a bit too hot.  
  
"That is a curious question indeed," Minerva replied. "Although I find Snape to be a bit of a depressing subject, so…" She paused.  
  
"Yes," Emilia agreed immediately, taking Minerva's pause as a chance to change the subject to a happier one. It was quite nice to finally have someone civil to talk to, for a change. "What else was it you needed?"  
  
"Well, I just want to ask you something. I knew your father, he was in Slytherin when I was a teacher here, a new one, at the very least, but I was here. Your father…" she paused, searching for the right words.  
  
"Was a bit like that Malfoy kid?" she suggested. "Yes, I know. I also can guess to where you're leading. No, I've never been a Death Eater, and never plan to be one. I also am trying to break off from my family's tradition, but it is really hard." Emilia paused, waiting for her to absorb this, and took a sip of her tea, which had finally, cooled.  
  
"Er…all right," she said, obviously obtaining more information then she expected. "What do you think of your teaching and your classes? I've heard students are obviously enjoying them."  
  
"I'm quite happy about that," she replied, pouring herself another cup. "It's really great to be teaching again. The students are fun. Well, almost all of them," she added, with a grin.  
  
"Teaching again?" Minerva inquired.  
  
"Yes, I used to teach abroad. Young students, they were, and very keen on learning to defend themselves. Right about after…er, You-Know- Who's defeat. Three years, actually, afterward. People were still frightened. I don't blame them. Especially if the rumors I have heard are true," she said quietly. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or rather Voldemort, still hung a cloud of dark over her past.  
  
"Interesting," Minerva mused quietly, sipping her tea. "That is why Dumbledore asked you to carry on with Potter's extra defense classes?" Emilia nodded.  
  
"Yes, and he is doing exceptionally well," she replied. "I have three students…well, actually, two. That Hermione Granger is practically a self-teaching student. I don't even know why she bothers coming to classes, except to confirm what she already deeply knows." Emilia paused. She almost…resented Hermione Granger. A little bit, she supposed. Well, not really. Hermione Granger is a lot like she was when she went to school, a little bookworm. Reliving a memory, really. How can you resent something that resembles you?  
  
"Yes, it pleases me she was put into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw," said Minerva, setting down her teacup. "She would have done well either way, but she makes Gryffindor proud."  
  
"Along with that young Potter," Emilia added. "He's quite an intelligent child," she paused, wondering why she was talking like she was so much older than he was! "I mean, boy, and it's nice to work with someone who is so keen and able."  
  
"Yes, it is. Correct me if I'm wrong, but when you were here, your strong points were…?"  
  
Emilia grinned. "Potions, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Quite opposites, but look at me and my family."  
  
"Yes, of course," Minerva agreed, looking at the clock perched on Emilia's mantel above her fireplace. It was an old wizarding clock, which read somewhat like Muggles' clocks did. "I have to go up to the Gryffindor Tower and quiet them down. Did you realize the first match is tomorrow? You will be cheering for Gryffindor, won't you?"  
  
"Yes, of course," she replied quickly, as if any other answer would have her cursed. Emilia stood along with Minerva. "It was really nice talking to you…or someone."  
  
"You may come down to my room, if you want, if you are lonely," Minerva offered, opening her door. "I'm only doing grading at night."  
  
"I wouldn't want to disturb—" but Emilia was waved off.  
  
"Stuff and nonsense. Visit," she said, almost like an order. Minerva smiled, most unlike her usual thin-lipped smile she usually gave. "I'll see you at the game tomorrow, at nine."  
  
"I'll be there," Emilia said happily. Minerva walked out, and Emilia closed the door. 


	4. The Quidditch Match

AN: This chapter is somewhat shorter than the other ones, but this one sets up the next chapter better than the last one. And I'm tired…::grins:: Anyway, please enjoy. Don't throw shoes…it's going to get there soon, I promise ^^ personally, I gack at those stories (like, for instance d/hr stories) that start with "Oh, I've miraculously changed my entire personality!" and then they take off from there. I'm not saying I dislike them (they are, after all, just stories) but I need reasons why they changed. So, why not create them myself? This is why Snape will continue to be mean, and Emilia will continue to get back at him. Hopefully in the next two chapters, something will happen. I'm not promising anything, though. Emilia's not one to be all lovey-dovey (heck, she practically takes after me!) and Snape's not about to start reciting Shakespeare (unless it's extremely sarcastically, of course), but, please enjoy. This one may be *somewhat* short, but it's complete; I didn't like the ending of the last chapter, it wasn't…cliff-hangy enough for me. All in all, please have fun…read and review!  
  
PS: Thank you so much for the 10+ people who have reviewed (I don't know if that will be the same when I post…). I will have a page at the end thanking each and everyone who reviews! I'm so snappy happy for this!  
  
Chapter Four: The Quidditch Match  
  
Emilia awoke with her head pounding. She had a headache something terrible, and she couldn't help but want to crawl back into bed again. It was eight o'clock, and the match would be in an hour. She knew she had to get up, whether she wanted to or not.  
  
Yawning profusely, she got herself ready quickly and headed down to the hall for a quick bite before freezing outside. It wasn't all that cold, but it was supposed to be winter, after all. Or, somewhere close to it, at the very least.  
  
The tension in the Great Hall was exceptional. The Slytherins, as the opposing team to the Gryffindors, weren't showing their best colors. The all sneered and snarled at the passing Gryffindors, and a fight broke our between a sixth year Gryffindor and a second year Slytherin that sent them to the Infirmary with one of them tap dancing uncontrollably and the other without the use of his left side. Emilia was hesitant to chuckle, and even more so to donning the Gryffindor colors. She didn't need any jeering from the Slytherins, and lest of all, from Snape. She hid her flag in her robes and the red and gold scarf inside her cloak.  
  
Snape was already eating before she arrived. "Not quite punctual, are we?" he snarled.  
  
Emilia sat down, hanging her cloak over the back of her chair. "Didn't know you wanted me here at a specific time, Snape, as I do look forward to our chats in the morning."  
  
He narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you'll be cheering for those low- life Gryffindors, correct?"  
  
Emilia smiled. "Snape, I didn't think we were supposed to take sides among the houses." She was implying most clearly that he obviously favored Slytherin, as his flag was laying on the table, and the scarf he usually wore (being green) was sticking out of his cloak that rested on the back of his chair. "And what if I were?"  
  
Snape snorted. "I would say you are most like all those other drone Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers that have arrived. All of them have been a bit keen on Gryffindor. And they were lousy teachers. I think there happens to be a pattern, here, that you can't wait to fulfill."  
  
"Ah," Emilia nodded. "So you imply I should cheer for Slytherin, then?" she replied sarcastically.  
  
"Start a new trend, Black. Why not support your old house? Or perhaps, are you afraid to actually uphold your bloodlines?" he snapped.  
  
"Actually, I don't quite care about my bloodlines as much as you think," which was a lie, Emilia thought, "and I don't care to cheer for Slytherin. I much prefer to be a drone."  
  
Snape turned to his toast, and picked it up. "That's what I thought, considering your Gryffindor flag fell on the floor when you set your cloak on your chair." He stood, swung his own cloak on his arm, and walked out.  
  
Emilia tutted as she sighed. "Over grown pr—"  
  
"Good morning, Emilia," a voice said on the other side of her. It was a somewhat happy McGonagall, but all the excitement of a Quidditch match seemed to walk out with Snape. "I just bumped—quite literally, mind you—into Snape, who was muttering about insufferable new teachers. I'm guessing you two had another run in?"  
  
Emilia felt cross. "Yeah, I guess we did," Emilia said, a bit more snappish than she would have liked. She was almost too happy for being Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"So, then, are you going to the game? It starts in fifteen minutes. Just wanted to grab a bite to eat." That sounded like what Emilia came in here for. Now she didn't really seem too keen on going to the Quidditch match now.  
  
"Yes, I guess I am going," she said dully. Right now, she wished she hadn't said anything to her last night so she could skive off this match and cheer for Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff, at the next match. At least, cheer for anyone but the two biggest rivals in the school.  
  
She was in actually, torn, between the two houses. She grew up praising Salazar Slytherin and everything with the Dark Arts. Everyone who met her said she was very "ambitious", the token characteristic of Slytherin. She was, in fact, sorted into Slytherin while she was at school here. That was how she knew Snape; her first year was his fifth. Yet, she told McGonagall she was going to be all for Gryffindor. The only people that have been even remotely nice were the Gryffindors. That was why, she felt, she was going to cheer for Gryffindor. His words, though, did echo in her mind: "Why not support your old house? Or perhaps, are you afraid to actually uphold your bloodlines?"  
  
She was afraid of upholding her bloodlines. Surely, these students have written home talking about school, and their new "teacher"; anything mentioning her name would bring up worry. Her father, as much as she tried to hide it, did commit most of the Muggle killings, right along side Lucius Malfoy. But then, last year Bartemius Crouch's son—who was disguised as Alastor Moody, by way of the Polyjuice Potion—was supposedly, a popular teacher. He was put in Azkaban for Muggle killings during Voldemort's rein, and was "the most faithful" servant of the Dark Lord. And the year before that, Remus Lupin—a werewolf—was a very popular teacher (in fact, anytime she heard such good comments from the students about her usually were compared with him—"Wow, Professor Black is just like Lupin!").  
  
But none of these excuses made up for her being a Black, and there are some things that don't rub off. She looked at Professor McGonagall, who had finished eating, and was standing up to go to the Quidditch pitch. "Ready, Emilia?"  
  
Emilia looked down at her plate. It had the exact same amount of food on it as when she started. Suddenly, she didn't feel much like eating. "Yes, I guess," she replied, and gathered her cloak. She picked up the Gryffindor flag that was on the floor, and looked at it. Walking quickly, she caught up to Minerva, who was already outside the Great Hall.  
  
They walked down the flight of stairs to the Main Entrance and out of Hogwarts—the doors leading in are almost as magnificent as those are into the Great Hall, if not more. They walked along the path that led to the Quidditch pitch, and saw the rows were practically filled the brim. Three quarters of the entire stadium were sporting gold and red, and the rest—obviously the Slytherins—only one quarter. With this, only one teacher was sporting Slytherin colors in the teacher's box—Snape. Even Dumbledore was decked in red and gold.  
  
Emilia walked up the flight of stairs that wound its way up to the highest box, which was reserved for the teachers. Emilia took a seat in the front, next to Minerva—and the person behind her was Snape. Emilia frowned, and wrapped her scarf tighter around her. Flushing slightly, she could see the Gryffindors being marked as they entered the stadium.  
  
"Welcome to another year of Inter-House Quidditch! The first match of the year is between Slytherin and Gryffindor. And here is the Gryffindor team!" Emilia leaned over to see seven scarlet blurs shoot across the field. The cheers from the crowd were nearly deafening.  
  
"Amazing," she whispered. The Slytherins came out next, also seven blurs, albeit they were slightly bigger blurs than the Gryffindor team.  
  
"That's Lee Jordan," Minerva pointed out, focussing on the main speaker, who was commenting on the entire match. "A bit of Weasley in him, though."  
  
Emilia laughed good-naturedly. "Yes, quite." Emilia looked about the stadium. Madam Hooch was in the middle of the pitch, yelling out incomprehensible instructions. Finally, she bent down, and let out the main balls of Quidditch: the two Bludgers, which zoomed about the players quickly; a small golden glint, which Emilia assumed was the Snitch; and the biggest ball, the Quaffle, which she threw up in the air to start the game.  
  
The crowds once again went wild as the game started, all fourteen people were zooming about, a look of determination in their formations. Emilia smiled. It had been a while since she'd seen a Quidditch match. In fact, it'd been over a year; ever since the Quidditch World Cup last summer. She'd been there with her father as a treat. Laughing inside, she really didn't realize what kind of treat he meant—her first show of what they do to Muggles for "fun". It made her stomach churn, and she noticed her face fell at the thought. Minerva noticed her face lost the glow it'd had a moment ago. "Something the matter?"  
  
"Er, what?" Emilia said, looking at her curiously. She'd been in deep thought.  
  
"Spoken like a true blond," a voice said above them. "If you come to a Quidditch match, don't space out, Black." Snape smirked at her; the score was 90-30, Slytherin lead. She glared at him contemptuously and returned her attention to the game.  
  
"Some people come for the view, Snape. Surprisingly, the Slytherins may have a lead, but they don't seem to have much of a cheering section, do they?" she spoke to him, her voice catching the wind. She was pointing out that every teacher except him had Gryffindor colors on.  
  
Snape's foot shifted and was dangerous close to the small of her back. His show was pressing into her spinal cord. "One more word and you'll loose the feeling in your back, Black."  
  
Emilia shifted to the other side. "Petty physical moves, eh, Snape? I don't suppose you'd follow your family traditions?"  
  
"No, but speaking of which, sad there aren't any Muggles around? Like the last time there was a Quidditch match?" he replied vehemently.  
  
Emilia stood and pulled out her wand before she thought about it. "Yes, I am sad there aren't any Muggles around. Want to try out what we do to them? Care for a spin, I daresay?" she hissed, pointing the wand at his neck. "Back off. I'm trying to have a nice time."  
  
"Your pathetic threats don't intimidate me, Black. Go for it. I dare you."  
  
Emilia shrugged. "Okay then, if you insist. Wingardium Leviosa!" she whispered, levitating Snape a couple of inches off the bench. He continued to rise, and there he sat, nonchalantly. Finally, he reached two feet of the bench. Snape did nothing, and teachers were beginning to turn and look. She laughed, jerked her wand up five more inches, and then sent him smashing down into the seat. Snape gave an obvious wince, and rubbed his backside. Emilia smiled, nodding at him. "'Course, then. Shut up, Snape."  
  
She turned around again and sat down, content. Minerva looked at her disapprovingly, and Dumbledore had a sad glint in his eye. She knew what she did wasn't appropriate. Emilia had to put him in his place, though. Surely, being with him as long as they were, they'd understand this, right? Snape's tailbone must be aching right now. At least he was quiet. She really didn't think Dumbledore would appreciate this, but she kind of thought Minerva was on her side. Emilia suddenly felt a little silly. How could such a jerk get to her like this? It was all rather confus--  
  
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted with Gryffindor's cheering section going wild as Potter caught the Snitch. "Potter's got the Snitch!! Potter's got the Snitch!!" Lee Jordan's voice rang out across the pitch excitedly. Emilia felt that her excitement was washed out of her. She couldn't be that happy for Gryffindor as she should be. Quietly, she escaped Minerva's happy rejoicing and walked down the staircase. Sighing loudly, she walked outside and was blown back by a powerful wind. It was kicking up, and it was cold, she felt, as she unconsciously shivered and pulled the cloak a bit tighter.  
  
She could still hear the loud cries of joy from the higher elevations. Now that she was out in the open, and it was just a little quieter down here, she didn't feel so cramped and cross. She felt…guilty. Emilia shouldn't have gone off on Snape like that. She just couldn't help it. He made her so mad.  
  
She leaned against the wall of the stadium, and put her hands into her pockets. Pulling out her warm gray gloves, she put them on with great difficulty, as her hands wouldn't stop moving. Cupping them to her mouth, she breathed in and trying to get a bit warm.  
  
Without warning, a hand shoved her back into the wall, and a hand dug into her shoulder. The surprise of the action knocked the breath out of her, and she coughed, trying to breathe. Looking up, she said, "What the—"  
  
"How dare you," a voice hissed. "How dare you do that to me?"  
  
Emilia glared at him. Snape had his wand pointed to her throat. "You dared me, Snape. What, you can dish it but can't take it? Every hear the saying, 'Do unto others and you would have others do unto you'?"  
  
She felt a sting across her cheek and she was slapped hard. A hand was brought automatically up to her cheek, and the glove felt odd against it. "Don't like that much, do you?" he seethed. "Imagine all those people seeing that. Then going to your class, and teaching students who snigger behind your back. I can't stand you, Black. You constantly are making me look like a fool. One day I'm going to get you back, you'll regret ever coming to Dumbledore looking for that job."  
  
"I hope you can promise me that, Snape," she spat, rubbing her cheek. "And you complain about that? Children sniggering behind your back? I've had to live with that all my life. You have no idea. You, of all people, should understand me. But you constantly are starting any fight, any argument—you start them." She pushed her shoulder to knock his hand off. It wouldn't move. She clutched her hand on his arm and dug into with all her might, but with the glove on, the nails really weren't much help. "Get off of me!"  
  
Snape smiled inhumanly. "Don't like this much either, do you?"  
  
Emilia's eyes grew rather round. She started to get a bit panicky. "Let go, now, Snape."  
  
"I want to explain to you why I feel that you should leave. I want you to stop your little, 'I'm better than the World because I'm a Black,' routine. You have no right whatsoever treating me like this. What made you think that you could get me back for anything? I've been getting the roughest end of the deal," he said quickly, nonetheless angrily.  
  
He dug his fingers deeper into her shoulder, shoving her back further into the wall. The fury of his anger made his grip strong. She never expected Snape to act physically, ever. This, and the slap, was almost totally out of character. He almost prided in that he had more intelligence to carry on a fight of words than with fists. "Let me go!" she said a bit louder. She could feel tears spring to her eyes. "This hurts, now let go," she snarled.  
  
"No, I think not. Let's see how well you deal with all that's happened since you've come. I don't want any retaliation. I want you to know what you have done to me and my reputation."  
  
"What, a reputation for being the meanest teacher here? Is that what you pride in?"  
  
"No. I pride in being a strong teacher. You have made me look weak in the student eyes. I can't teach a proper class anymore. You shouldn't be here. You don't belong. I noticed that many of the teachers still don't trust you."  
  
"And why should they trust you? A former Death Eater?"  
  
"Yes, quite. Everyone's a Death Eater in your eyes. How did you come up with that one?" he replied sarcastically.  
  
"My father is one, you idiot. I think I would know," she snapped. "You undermine my intelligence again." She lifted her foot and kicked his shin, to which he dropped his hand and winced noticeably. "The students are coming. You want to them to see you like this? Holding me to a wall? Even I can figure that's not good for your rep, since you pride yourself in that." She rubbed her shoulder. "Good day, Snape."  
  
She walked away quickly, so that she could avoid anyone. Her shoulder hurt like hell. She couldn't help but grip it as she walked into the warm building. She walked upstairs into her room, and pulled off her cloak. Stuffing her gloves into the pockets quickly, she massaged her shoulder and walked into the bathroom mindlessly.  
  
Turning her head sideways, she pulled down her robe to reveal the skin of her shoulder. It was very red, and had the beginning of purple on the outside edges. She grimaced when she tried to touch it softly. His grip had bruised her. It's been awhile that she'd gotten a bruise. In fact, she realized, there were a lot of awhile since she'd arrived. Awhile since she'd been teaching, talking to people, and seeing a Quidditch match…. It kind of made her nervous. Her stomach felt like someone had put it through a paper shredder. Sighing, she slid into a warm chair, and noticed the fire was going. She baked in its warmth, and covered her shoulder carefully with her robe. She'd have to bandage it, incase anyone would ask questions.  
  
There was a rapt knock at the door. "Coming!" she yelled, "I'll be there momentarily." Standing slowly and carefully, if not to hurt herself more than already, she walked over to it. Pulling back on the old and used handle, she peered outside the door cautiously. "Yeah?" she asked.  
  
Minerva's face was flushed from the wind. "Sorry to interrupt you, but Dumbledore wants to see you now." Her face looked sullen, despite the fact that Gryffindor had just won a match.  
  
Emilia's stomach sank through the floor. 


	5. The Meeting

AN: Sorry so long, I just couldn't end it properly…oh well…please, don't worry…this story isn't going to end for a while. This may get a bit…er, well, I don't care how it gets. Nothing's going to happen until part two…yes, part two. The idiocy of this still bewilders me…I love writing their arguments, though. Minerva's hard to write, seeing as she's a teacher and whatnot, despite being "strict and fair", they never show he as compassionate. Don't throw rocks if you think she's a little bit off, I'm not going to make her a bitch 24/7. …er, lol ^^  
  
Have fun  
  
Be well and take care…  
  
Kary  
  
That's it! Thank you to all that review!  
  
Keep on reading and reviewing!  
  
Chapter Five: The Meeting  
  
"He…wants to see me?" Emilia sputtered, her stomach churning with a mix of guilt and anxiety. She felt really bad, and this could only mean one thing…she was going to be fired…where would she go?  
  
"Yes, Emilia," she spoke softly. "Come on." She moved aside to let Emilia out. Emilia walked slowly out, shutting the door behind her. A growing dread was forming in her mind. She felt terrible. She knew she shouldn't have done that. Disappointing Dumbledore was bad enough, but Emilia realized, she might have gone a bit overboard.  
  
"You know what it's about?" Emilia croaked, as they descended the long flight of stairs.  
  
She shook her head. "Haven't a clue, Emilia. We have to hurry up, though." She sounded very sad, Emilia noticed. This made her worry even more.  
  
"I'm not…going to be sacked, am I?" Emilia whispered.  
  
Minerva shrugged. "I don't know Emilia. You'll find out soon enough." They reached the gargoyle in no time. Emilia wondered why it was so fast…she supposed things you dread come quicker than you wish it to. Anyway, she realized, it didn't matter anymore. She was there. And the dread in her mind was full blown. Emilia surprised herself. It was amazing how scared of Dumbledore she was, or at any rate, how she was afraid to loose her job. It may not pay well, but it housed her, and it was a lot easier to be near Dumbledore, than out with the Muggle-killing Death Eaters. She didn't notice Minerva tell the gargoyle the password, and soon they were ascending the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Anxiety washed through her. She didn't even notice the faint stabbing pains of the growing bruise on her shoulder. "I'm leaving. Good luck, Emilia," Minerva whispered, and opened the door to his office. Emilia stepped in.  
  
Dumbledore was in his chair, with his fingers folded and his elbows supporting his chin. When he had seen her come in, he stood. "Please, Emilia, take a seat," he said, waving his hand to the other available seat. The other one was taken by Severus Snape. Emilia narrowed her eyes at Snape, and sat down, trying not to wince when she bumped her shoulder on the chair. Dumbledore took his seat as well. "Now, I've asked you two here to try to explain something. I don't want this feud you two have started to continue any longer. Someone will get hurt. I want this stopped now," he said softly, raising his chin a little bit from his clasped hands. "So you two will make up."  
  
Emilia felt her stomach lift up a bit. So she wasn't going to be fired. And, truly, she wasn't even in real trouble. But asking to get along with Snape…that was what she was trying to do all along. So long as he didn't step out of line. The two of them remained silent. Dumbledore sighed a little.  
  
"I really didn't expect you two to be jumping out of your seats in apologetic hugs," he said dryly, "but nothing is certainly not what I was expecting. You two have been most childish. The students need role models, and I have heard of your growing popularity, Emilia. You can't expect to teach the students anything if you can't even get along. And I have heard your voiced complaints, Severus." Emilia frowned. He ran to Dumbledore? What a wimp, was all Emilia could think. Even she didn't run and tell Dumbledore about him.  
  
Emilia breathed a little bit easier, all the same. Dumbledore just wanted them to "make up". Emilia turned her head away from Snape. She wasn't going to say anything until he apologized first. He started it all.  
  
Dumbledore looked from Emilia to Snape. "Okay, this is a bit ridiculous. Severus, you first."  
  
Snape looked up. "What? Me? Headmaster, don't you think that she should start first?"  
  
Emilia glared at him. "You started it, Snape."  
  
Dumbledore put his hand up. "Enough. First of all, I am amazed that you can't even talk to each other on a first name basis. It's been nearly half a year. End of term is in a couple of weeks. Severus, please."  
  
Snape scowled. "Sorry," he said airily, not sounding sorry at all. Smirking, he turned to her. "Your turn."  
  
"I guess I'm sorry," Emilia replied, just as airily, and sounding just as sorry as he did. She folded her arms (with what pain she still had) and turned away.  
  
Dumbledore put his folded hands on the table in front of him. "Fine. You two will be working together until end of term. Madam Pomfrey needs a batch of Pepper-up Potions made quickly. You two will make a half-year supply, starting tomorrow, after dinner." He frowned at them. "I should like to apologize for this, but you two are being extremely stubborn. I don't need this rift among the staff. And you two should be on a first name basis. I can't understand your fight at all." There was a twinkle in his eyes, like he almost knew exactly what they were fighting about. "You two are excused."  
  
Emilia stood abruptly. "Good afternoon, Dumbledore," she said quietly.  
  
Snape followed suit. Dumbledore waved absent-mindedly. "I hope for a peaceful dinner," he added, as they left.  
  
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Emilia tutted. "I do hope you're pleased with yourself. Running to Dumbledore was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do."  
  
"And I knew he would do this? I was trying to get you sacked," Snape snapped. Emilia scowled at him, rubbing her shoulder distractedly.  
  
Snape looked at her oddly. "What?" she said exasperatedly. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped at once. "I'm going."  
  
"Wait. What was that all about?" he said, his face a little bit paler than normal.  
  
"What was what all about?"  
  
"Your shoulder," he said, pointing to it. "You kept rubbing it during the meeting, and then you winced when you crossed your arms."  
  
"What, were you watching me?" she replied crossly. "What do you think happens to skin when force is applied to it, idiot? I'm going to get a brui—" Looking up guiltily, she stopped mid-sentence. "Never mind. I don't get anything." She started to walk away.  
  
"You got a bruise, didn't you?" Snape asked softly. She stopped in her tracks.  
  
"Very good," she said sarcastically. Turning around, she frowned at him. "What did you think would happen?" She started to walk off again. Snape walked up next to her quickly.  
  
"Have you been to Madam Pomfrey yet?" he asked hurriedly, looking a bit paler.  
  
Emilia stopped. "What's this I hear? Care? Concern? Maybe you should have thought of that before you hurt me. No, I haven't been to Madam Pomfrey. I'm not going either." What was she supposed to say to Madam Pomfrey? "Yes, quite, Severus gave that to me." Oh, that'd look good.  
  
"Good," he said, breathing out. She looked at him sideways. "I mean, you should probably have that looked at," he said quickly. He's probably feeling guilty, she supposed. Serves him right.  
  
"Thank you doc," she replied, her voicing positively dripping with causticity. "Take a hike, Snape. I don't need your advice." Emilia turned away from him sharply.  
  
Snape thought for a second. "Black—er, I mean, Emilia, come with me."  
  
Emilia turned. "What?" she said, confused, and a little bit angry.  
  
"I have a remedy—the Soothing Solution—it should be of help to you. I—erm, I do feel sort of responsible for this. At least allow me to—er, help you," he said slowly. Emilia blinked. Sighing exasperatedly, he explained, "I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my shallow heart. I—shouldn't have done that to you." He started to walk away quickly. Emilia caught up with him easily. He was truly awkward about his. Then again, he should be. She didn't cause him any lasting marks. This mark, at the very least, would be a bit hard to explain.  
  
"You owe me this much, at least," Emilia said finally, agreeing. "This solution will do what, now?"  
  
"It will make it less visible, and at the very least, get rid of the pain," he said quietly.  
  
Emilia furrowed her brow in thought. "Why?" she asked.  
  
"Why what? Why do this for you? Because, should you choose to take this to Dumbledore, I can…loose my job. And the fact that I used physical force instead of verbal was totally degrading to my pride," he replied dryly. He unlocked the door to the Potions classroom, and walked briskly inside. It was very cold in here, and the rows of tables had a slight mist on them. He was in the adjourning room, getting what she needed. Trying to warm up, she glanced quickly about the room. It was as cold and dark as he was. The dungeon walls were almost deep blue, and the entire room was dimly lit. The fire was out, and it looked like it had never been lit at all, ever. Snape returned quickly with a small glass. "Here, drink this," he ordered, and she took the glass slowly. She looked inside it, and looked up at him. "What? I didn't poison it."  
  
Emilia still looked dubious when she took her first sip, and made a face. "Ugh, dif tuff ta'tes lif' tar," she said, trying to swallow the mixture. She clearly didn't enjoy that at all. Emilia scrunched up her nose, and held the glass away from her. "I can't drink anymore of that stuff. Can sugar help it?"  
  
Snape smiled weakly. Emilia narrowed her eyes. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? What is this?" said Emilia angrily. "What did you give me?"  
  
Snape folded his arms across his chest. "I gave you what I told you, the Soothing Solution. And I have this gel-type healing agent that should reduce the sight of it—speaking of which, how visible is it?" He pulled out a small jar from his pocket, and opened it up slowly.  
  
"Er, it's somewhat small," she said, setting down the glass on the desk. "What are you going to do with that?" She watched him stir the gel with a white plastic brush-like object. Emilia swallowed hard. "What are you going to do with that?" she repeated.  
  
"I'm mixing it up so I can put it on your bruise. What does it look like?" Snape snapped, and started to scrape off the gel from the stick. He set the white stick on the desk and walked over to her.  
  
"Let me put it on," she said quickly, reaching for the jar. He pulled it out of reach, and she stamped her foot. "Come on, I can put it on myself."  
  
"Yes, I know you probably could, but not right," he said absent- mindedly. "Now, please, let me see it."  
  
Emilia gripped her shoulder defensively. "Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey do this instead?" she asked meekly.  
  
"Oh, for heavens' sake, Emilia, just let me put it on. Then I'll bandage it up and you can be on your merry way. You wanted my help, right?" he said impatiently.  
  
Emilia looked at the jar. "I guess…" she said, her voice full of doubt. "I hear one word from you and I'm going straight to Pomfrey, got it?" she said, still looking at the jar.  
  
"Fine," he said. "It's going to set if you don't hurry up." She forced down the urge to gulp, knowing that she couldn't prolong this any longer. She reached up with her good arm, and pulled down her robe to show her shoulder. She now noticed it was throbbing with pain. Snape looked at the bruise. It was the size of a baseball. Emilia could feel color creeping onto her cheeks. Snape dug his hands into the goo and pulled out a handful. He poised his hand above her shoulder. "This is going to be—"  
  
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she yelped. "Cold! Ouch, that hurts!" She tried to move her shoulder from his reach to let the cold numb her shoulder, but he made her sit still.  
  
"Emilia, this won't work if you can't sit still." He frowned at her, then started to rub the gel into her purple injury. The gel was still freezing cold, but eventually, it started to warm up. Emilia relaxed; it didn't hurt all that bad anymore. In fact, it barely hurt at all. Emilia was almost enjoying the attention that was being paid to her shoulder blade. His fingers certainly did contrast with the coolness of the gel, which was quickly getting very warm. She looked at Snape, who was totally engrossed in his work, his black hair covering half of his face. That look never changed; it was the same as when he was in school, working on a potion. Emilia felt the tension leave her shoulder completely; she was relaxing into the massage on her shoulder. She felt her eyes close, and the color continued to creep up on her cheeks. He had it up to her collarbone, and back again at the curve of her shoulder. If Snape wasn't so good at hiding his expressions, she would think he was enjoying himself.  
  
When he was satisfied the gel was completely absorbed (which was some time later, Emilia noticed), Snape backed up and closed the lid of the jar. "Wait here a moment," he said thickly, and turned to leave. "I have to get the bandages."  
  
Emilia shifted. She'd been standing a long time, and she needed to get the kinks out of her leg. What she wanted to do was move her shoulder around a bit, but she was afraid whatever was put on it would go all over her robes. She walked over to the table, and rubbed her fingers across it, bored. It was cold and almost dewy. Not surprising; the dungeons were always cold and misty.  
  
He returned quickly with a small white bandage. "This would have been a lot more convenient if Madam Pomfrey would have looked at it," she said quietly, and he started to wrap her shoulder carefully, winding the bandage around and under her arm.  
  
"I'm sure it would have been a lot easier for you, I daresay," he spoke softly, "but there were marks there that even you couldn't explain away." He stopped for a second, and finished by tearing of the last bit she needed. He pressed the end to the rest of the bandages, vaguely aware of her warmth. "And, I really…er, I do—I'm not trying to be nice or anything—"  
  
"Apology accepted, Sna—or, rather, Severus," she interrupted, finishing his sentence. He clipped it up with a metal pin, and Emilia pulled her robes over the top of it. "I've had much worse," she said, trying to shrug this off, "and anyway, I've got to go. I promised Minerva a cup of tea at one." She pointed to the clock. "It's about time to leave."  
  
Snape looked at the clock. He stared at it for a second, then hid his mouth in his hand in what was an unmistakable laugh. He set the bandages on the table, and stood up straight, a thin, wry smile on his face. "Go, go then…but you do realize that the clock has stopped, right? It decided to stop itself." Snape said slyly. "I would say it's quite a bit later than that."  
  
"What?" Emilia said, looking at him. "What time is it?" Snape looked at his own watch.  
  
"It's about one-thirty," he said smartly. "Minerva's going to be a bit mad, if I know her." He tutted sarcastically. Covering up his wrist again, he walked to the front of the room and started to shuffle his papers, leaving Emilia feeling a bit dumbstruck. She leaned over and picked up the white roll, throwing it next to his head, the roll bouncing off the wall.  
  
Snape looked up casually. "What?" There was a small look on contempt in his eyes, contradicted with a  
  
"You owe me tea," Emilia said in mock anger, a wide smile on her face. "Go on, gather up a kettle. I'll wait."  
  
"Excuse me?" he said, while tapping parchment on the table to line them up properly, "I owe you tea? Since when?"  
  
"Since you took your dear old time with my shoulder. I'm already too late," she pointed out. "I can't go meet Minerva now. So you owe me a cup of tea as compensation."  
  
"I took my dear old time?" He stopped shuffling the papers. "What, did you think I did that on purpose? And if you want tea, you make it yourself." Emilia looked at him. Did he take his time on purpose? Yawning, she rotated her shoulder a couple of times to work the stitches of pain out. It felt better, at the very least. She yawned again. This time, he caught it. "Emilia, the Soothing Solution makes one tired. You should probably go back to your room."  
  
Emilia tried to look at him, but he was slightly out of focus, and his voice sounded faraway, like a badly tuned radio. "I think you're quite right," she slurred, trying to keep her eyes open. It was really hard to. She yawned again. "Sev-Sev-Sev-Severus," as she yawned again, in the middle of her word. "I think I can't—er, that means to say, if I could—but really," she paused. The entire room was now a blur. "I don't feel so…wellllll…" she said, slumping against the desk. She couldn't support herself, and pain was cutting dully into her shoulder that would have brought tears to another's eyes. The stiffness of her shoulder was hard to get around, and she eventually let go of the desk, lying helplessly on the floor.  
  
Snape was already there. He knelt beside her, and tried to turn her over. When he did, she was completely zoned out—but conscious. She looked up at him. "Hullo, you," she said thickly, but her words almost incomprehensible. She lifted her face up to him, tilting her head ever so slightly.  
  
"I didn't think it was that powerful," he mused out loud, trying to get her to sit up, back his face away from hers. His knees were pin- prickling as they began to fall asleep. "Damn it…" he muttered quietly, as he tried to stand. He let go of her for a minute, and with a quiet "Whee", she fell on the floor again. Well, she was able to understand what was happening around her, at least.  
  
"Emilia, do try to stay awake," he said, standing fully up. "I'm going to get you something that might throw this off." He walked away quickly, and went into his storage room. He pawed through the lines and lines of ingredients that were assorted on shelves that completely covered the small room. He finally found what he was looking for.  
  
"The Delusion Draft," he read aloud. It would enable her to see clearly, and sort of come out of whatever she was in. He didn't think that the Soothing Solution was the cause of the reaction, and when she was completely conscious, he would find out. Snape took the large vile and poured its contents into a glass. Walking briskly, he found her exactly as he left her: on the floor, completely out of it. She was mumbling something, but he couldn't understand her at all. "What the hell did you do to yourself?" he murmured, as he bent down again (the pin-prickliness went away, finally). Supporting her back, he lifted her up and sort of put his arm around her so she would stay up. He took the glass and pulled down her jar with the hand supporting her. He tilted it into her mouth, and the green liquid splashed into it, but most of it was down the front of her.  
  
He waited until she swallowed it, and rocked back, holding her in his arms until she awoke properly. He could see her eyes start to focus back in again. "Er, what?" she mumbled, trying to sit up. She felt someone was holding her. Her eyes continued to focus in, and suddenly, she had the urge to throw a fit. "Ack! Let go! Let go!" she yelled, struggling in his arms. He held her still.  
  
"Cut it out, you're only going to hurt yourself!" he said sharply, holding her down. "Stop, Emilia!"  
  
Emilia felt like she had awakened from a very long dream. "Er…Severus?" she said, looking up. She was completely aware of everything now; she was all too aware that he was holding her in the cold dungeon to the floor. "Care to explain?"  
  
He dropped her instantly, and she fell on the floor with a thud. He stood up, and walked over to his desk. "Ow…why did you do that?" she said, sitting up and massaging her elbow. "Do you have some secret fetish for purple?" she added dryly, standing. "What happened?"  
  
"You had some unusual side effects," he said, flipping through a textbook quickly. "Ah ha…you've said you like tea. Do you ever have it with catnip?" he asked, pointing to his place on the page.  
  
"Why?" she asked, walking up to where he was pointing at. She stood next to him, peering into the small print of the very old book. "Yes, sometimes. I think I did last night. It calms my nerves. Old Herbology trick." She picked up the book and read the entire paragraph on the side- effects.  
  
He stood there, irritably awake that she'd just stolen his last and favorite copy of Two Hundred and Thirty Ways to Fix a Solution, and very awake that she was thisclose to him. "Well, quite a little fun potion, isn't it? You should have asked me about this first. Er, now I really do have to go," she added, and set the book back down on the desk. "This is really unusual. I've need had a side effect before." She laughed a bit oddly. It echoed in the quiet dungeon. "Well, then, talk to you later," she said, walking a bit sideways to the door. She rounded the corner, and bumped her shoulder. "Ow, god damn it!" she cried out, grabbing her shoulder. "I need something for this," she said, her voice breaking with pain. He continued to look at her.  
  
"What?" she said exasperatedly.  
  
"Nothing," he said quickly, closing the book with a slap. "I think next Saturday you should have that looked at. By then, you'll be fine. Curious, I noticed a cut on that shoulder too."  
  
Emilia turned her head. "It's nothing. I bumped it on the way out of the Great Hall one day."  
  
He raised his eyebrow. "Fine, let that be your excuse. You seem to have a knack for getting hurt."  
  
"I'm a bit of a klutz," she said airily, walking out of the dungeon, and up the stairs. She walked kind of quickly, and emerged in the Front Hall. She looked around, and started to walk over to the main staircase hurriedly. She though she could just go upstairs to her room and take a nap when….  
  
"There you are!" a voice said severely behind her, and she stopped. Turning around, she saw Minerva.  
  
"Hullo, there, Minerva," she said weakly. "Er, there who is?" She knew perfectly well who she was taking about.  
  
"Emilia, where have you been?" she said, walking up to her. She set a hand on her bad shoulder, and Emilia tried not to wince. It wasn't working. The pain was throbbing too much.  
  
"Er, I've been…" she looked around quickly. She never really was the one to lie. "I had to have something looked at. Severus was kind enough to make me a potion for it."  
  
"Oh, now it's Severus, isn't it?" Minerva said with a quirky smile. Emilia felt some color creep into her cheeks. She turned around, knocking her hand off of Emilia's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, well, Dumbledore made us get along or…" Emilia paused. She didn't know if there was an "or". "Or I might end up fired," she finished, supposing that it was true.  
  
"That's terrible," she said sympathetically, walking up the stairs with her. "I just wanted to let you know, Dumbledore saw me after you two. He wanted to discuss something with me. He seemed rather happy."  
  
"And what about was he happy for?" she mused out loud, but kept on talking before Minerva could answer. "What about did he need you for?"  
  
"Ah, yes," she smiled. "He's going to announce at dinner that the Yule Ball will be an annual thing from now on."  
  
"Not just a triwizard tournament tradition anymore?" she asked, climbing another staircase. Minerva shrugged, waved to her, and went off her own way, down the opposite way of the corridor. Emilia continued down the hall, which was full of voices, getting louder as she got closer. She was quite curious of this, and when she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Draco Malfoy, and he was surrounded by a group of people.  
  
"What are you doing?" Emilia said sharply, walking up to them. The crowd parted quickly; soon everyone was dispersed and the only people left were Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley, who were obviously in a fight, but surprisingly, their wands were left aside. Draco had the beginnings of a shiner, and Ron's face was cut in two places. "Okay, I think I've got the gist of it," she said angrily. "20 points from each house, and the both of you need to get to the Infirmary. Not before you see your head of Houses, though," she added. The two of them gathered their things and their wands, trying to straighten their robes. Draco Malfoy shot her a look of contempt that Emilia was only too willing to give back.  
  
She walked Draco and Ron down the hall, and caught sight of Minerva. "Professor McGonagall!" she yelled, catching her attention. "I do believe you are Mr. Weasley's head of House? You deal with him," she said to Minerva's puzzled expression. Looking at Ron Weasley, she said, "Go on. Tell her I took care of points for you," she added softly, and pointed at McGonagall. He gave her a small smile, and started walking to the other teacher. Emilia could only guess why those two were in a fight. She has heard countless times that the Gryffindors do no do well with the Slytherins (this was an example of it); Slytherins do well to provoke, but Gryffindors do well to fight. Severus Snape was a fine example of that.  
  
"And now for you," she said to Draco Malfoy. "I do believe Professor Snape is your Head of House, correct?" He said nothing, but stood there obediently, waiting to be taken his teacher. He shifted his things on his shoulder, like he was bored standing there. Emilia frowned. "It wasn't a rhetorical question, Malfoy," she snapped, walking forward, dragging him along with her.  
  
The finally reached where Emilia had left only five minutes ago. "Professor Snape!" she said, opening the door.  
  
Snape looked up. "What do you want?" he snapped.  
  
She stepped inside, and Malfoy stood before her. "Caught in a fight," she said sharply, "with Ronald Weasley."  
  
Immediately, Draco Malfoy burst out, "Professor, it wasn't my fault! He started off about my family, and then took a swing at me! How was I supposed to defend myself? It was lucky Professor Black was there to stop that Weasley boy before I was harmed any further." Emilia glared at him. That was the biggest lie ever. Snape would never believe that…  
  
"How many points did you take off, Professor?" he said with a nasty undertone.  
  
She looked at him. "Enough," she said coolly. "You deal with him," she added. "Good day, Professor." She looked right at him. So he was going to favor Draco Malfoy over Ron Weasley.  
  
She walked out of the room quickly. Now that she was fully awake, she needed something to settle her down. She knew Malfoy was lying, but Snape would never choose to see it that way. Oh well; another one bites the dust.  
  
Emilia looked at her watch, expecting to see about two. It read near five. He lied! It couldn't have taken that much time. How long was she out for? How long was she with him? The entire time seemed a bit hazy to her. It made her stomach curl. That only happened one other time, and she couldn't remember anything afterward. It scared her not knowing what happened when.  
  
She walked down to the Great Hall; people were already filing in for dinner. She saw people crowded around a clipboard and quill; they must be staying for Christmas break. She smiled. Once they heard about the Yule Ball, a lot more students will be staying. The Yule Ball…it'd been a long time since she's heard of one of those.  
  
Emilia sat down at the table. Surveying the room, she noticed that many of the students seemed really talkative. Interesting. Dumbledore walked in to the room, and took his place. Minerva and Severus must still be having a chat with their students, she guessed.  
  
"Any better?" Dumbledore spoke suddenly.  
  
"Pardon?" she said, turning to him.  
  
"Are you two getting along a bit better?" he asked, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. He passed it down to Emilia, and she took it gratefully. Taking in what he said, she eyed him suspiciously, and didn't drink the goblet he had just poured. She instead folded her hands inside of her lap. She gave him a penetrating look, and wondered just what he meant by that comment.  
  
"I think so," she said, faintly remembering the events after his office. Those stupid drugs or, rather, "potions" he gave her made that entire hour or so a fuzzy memory. Her stomach grumbled quietly. She was hungrier than she thought. "I mean, I suppose it's an improvement," she added slowly, rotating her shoulder. It had become stiff again. The remembrance of that made her feel a bit upset.  
  
"Good," he said happily, and poured another goblet of juice, to which he took a long sip from. "On a happier note, I must say you are turning out to be quite a popular teacher." There was a twinkle in his eye. Emilia finally decided to drink, and took a sip of juice.  
  
Swallowing, she said, "I suppose so. I mean, it's a relief I'm not going to be fired." She put the gold cup down heavily, and it made a loud clank on the table. Emilia felt that she couldn't even hold it up. Her eyesight became a bit fuzzy. when Snape got in, she was going to ask him what other effects there was. Then she was going to smack him upside the head for offering to make her even sicker than she already was.  
  
"You thought you were going to be fired?" he asked thoughtfully, after saying hello to Hagrid, who had just arrived and sat down. Without warning, food suddenly appeared at the tables. Emilia looked at all the food happily; maybe she just needed some extra strength. After all, she did miss lunch. And tea.  
  
"Yes," she said, almost sheepishly. Snape and Minerva walked in, talking quite angrily and fast. She glanced at them as they walked up to the main table.  
  
"…how could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she—"  
  
"Shut up, Minerva; we are in the Great Hall," Snape interrupted casually, his voice dangerously low. "Unless you wish to go to the Headmaster again with more complaints? It's rather simple, you see. He'll call you up to his office—"  
  
"Don't make me take points away for your arrogance, Severus," she said viciously, her voice almost hushed.  
  
"What, from my own house?" They were now in front of the teacher's table, which was the only horizontal table among the four other house tables. "Or from yours?"  
  
"Hello, Severus, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly, looking at them. It was amazing; they were completely at the other end of the Great Hall and she could hear them almost perfectly. It made her wonder: how loud was she when she got into a fight with him? "Having a casual disagreement?"  
  
Minerva glanced at Dumbledore quickly. "No, no…house matters, nothing important…"  
  
Snape snorted. Dumbledore sighed a bit, as waved his hand to his side. "Sit, please," he said. "Dinner has already been served."  
  
Emilia's plate was still empty. What was Minerva talking about…? "…how could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she—" She what? Who was "she", anyway?  
  
And what did Snape mean? "Unless you wish to go to the Headmaster again with more complaints?" She was confused. Was Minerva the reason Dumbledore called them down? It would explain a lot…why he seemed so concerned on how they were fairing. She frowned, and pushed her plate away. Standing up, she quickly left the Great Hall without a word.  
  
Absolutely fuming, of course. 


	6. Hold It Up and Just Pretend

AN: My goodness, this couple of weeks has been crazy...I'm so sorry for the late update...I finished Act One (yes, I do believe there are two acts...) and the next act will be awesome. Nothing yet on the happiness fluffiness scale of your normal-romance, but this just isn't a normal romance. On a small, short note, I'm learning Harry Potter in my piano lessons. I'm currently working on Hogwarts Forever! and the G Major scale. Awesome song, that is. Also, next week I think either Quidditch or Hedwig's Flight (is that the title? I'm not thinking straight, I'm sick) but nonetheless, it's on the piano and I totally am so happy for doing this (my god, I sound like a blonde)...  
Email really bites, I've gotten a lot of it. But, I do enjoy the "gee I loved your story") HINT and I just wanted to let you know HINT HINT I do enjoy a review every now and then HINT HINT  
ENJOY~ you earned this  
  
Chapter Six: Hold It Up And Just Pretend  
  
Emilia walked through the halls quickly, hearing her steps echo off the cold stone floors and bounce off the castle walls. Minerva went to Dumbledore...and Severus...she didn't know what to think to that. It kind of made her mad. He could be so mean to her, then do whatever he supposedly done to her. What were his intentions?  
  
Emilia stopped, and leaned up against the wall. She crossed her arms, and heaved a sigh. She needed a break from all of this, and Christmas holiday starting next Friday can't come fast enough. Then there was the fact that she was supposed to work with him all next week. She could hear evident cheers ring out from the Great Hall. Dumbledore must have made the announcement about the Yule Ball. Oh, yes, and that too.  
  
She felt so overwhelmed. She had half a mind to walk up to Dumbledore and ask him if he would like another, more suitable assistant to Snape, for that batch of Pepper-Up Potions. Just because she had a decent talent in the subject...perhaps a seventh year could do an internship, she supposed. She leaned away from the wall.  
  
"Emilia!" a voice called curtly, and she whipped her head around to see Minerva. "What's the matter?"  
  
She looked at Minerva with an evident glare on her face. "How could you?" she said softly. Emilia was still furious about what she had overheard. "Did you?" she said, before Minerva could answer. "Did you run to Dumbledore?"  
  
Minerva looked away quickly, as if she heard a noise. Looking up, she had a stern look on her face. "I thought you could use some help. Severus was being such a dolt towards you, I figured that dropping a word to Albus couldn't hurt. And when you talk to me, it looked like you were obviously disliking it, but had too much pride to tell Albus."  
  
Emilia jaw dropped. "I didn't need any help, Minerva. I can handle people like that; I have handled them my entire life! If it were starting to get annoying, or just plain rude, I would have gone to Dumbledore myself. I trusted you," she added, narrowing her eyes angrily.  
  
Minerva opened her mouth then closed it. She opened it again, and said, "I was just trying to be your friend--"  
  
"You acted more like my mother, Minerva," she snapped. "I could have handled this on my own." Emilia turned her back to Minerva and walked quickly away. She didn't want to participate in any more conversation with that traitor. She ran to Dumbledore without even asking whether or not she wanted to talk to him. She could have really handled it; she had been for the previous three months school had been in session. She's handled in all of her twenty-seven years! What's one more to deal with? She felt that her trust in people was severely wounded. Emilia finally found someone who didn't like her because she was possible Death Eater material--a true friend that she didn't have to worry about endangering. Now she just lost her.  
  
"Pro-Professor Black?" a timid voice said from the corner. Turning her head sharply, she saw a first year step away from the wall. It was a young boy, with jet-black untidy hair and a short stature. He looked up at her, and kept moving his hands from an enclosed fist to clasping them together.  
  
"Yes?" she replied. Quite frankly, she had no idea what this little boy's name was--or even who he is. She has seen him in her classes, but he was probably one of the quiet ones. She saw from his robes that the crest of Slytherin was bared on them, albeit, not proudly.  
  
"I...I need to ask you a question. I want to know if the rumors are true," he said, a bit more daringly. She heard muffled voices, then silence. Turning her head slightly, she glanced beyond him in the darkness. She supposed he wasn't alone. "Do you...have something for our Potions master?"  
  
Emilia looked at him with large green eyes, and then she clenched her fist. "Absolutely not," she said tersely. Suddenly, she remembered his name, like she should have known it all along. "I don't know what gave you that idea at all. Faculty fraternizing is strictly prohibited, Mr. King."  
  
He smiled slyly. "My friend saw you two down in the dungeon today, Professor Black."  
  
Emilia tried hard not to go off on this kid, and slap him across the face. "Your friend did?" she said casually. She had nothing to worry about; by all means, she would never be caught dead with the likes of him. She looked around; her eyes darted this way and that. She knew his friends were in an invisibility cloak. If she caught them, it would serve them right. Suddenly, just as she heard if before, muffled noises to the right of him.  
  
"Stop right there," she snapped, and reached out her hand--most accurately. She ripped the material off of them, and saw three boys standing there, trying to sneak off. Holding the cloak in her hands, she narrowed her eyes at them. "I don't know what you are playing at, but this is the big league, boys. All of you now have a detention, and 50 points from Slytherin."  
  
The little boy, King, looked up at her quickly. "You can't do that!" he squealed.  
  
"Each," she added, still gripping the cloak. "Any more talk and it'll be a week's worth of detentions. This cloak here," she held up the softly colored green cloak, shaking it in her hands, "is also hereby confiscated. And you four shall be having a chat with the Headmaster, as well."  
  
Each one of them gave a glance at the other: all of them had a bit of a smirk on their faces. Emilia's stomach plummeted. "You think this funny, don't you?" she snapped, glaring at each one of them.  
  
"No, Professor. Just that...like you said, fraternization between faculty is forbidden. What would we tell Dumbledore?"  
  
"It's Professor Dumbledore to you, and pray tell, what would you tell him?" she said sarcastically.  
  
The boy that held her up stepped forward defiantly. "I saw you and Professor Snape. He was holding you--on the floor." He smirked at her. Emilia smiled right back.  
  
"And how long did you see this? One who makes assumptions is destined to be wrong," she said softly, draping the cloak on her arm slowly. She walked to the other side of them, and stopped. "Well?"  
  
"I...only saw you for a moment," he said hastily, "but it was enough to tell." He stood up straight.  
  
"You...are first years, correct?" she said airily, draping the cloak on her other arm. "Do you know the punishment for blackmailing a teacher? Or attempting to? It's not against school rules," she added, "it's against the law." She stared at each and every one of them. "I know where you're going with this, gentlemen. Don't try my patience."  
  
"Patience...isn't that a Gryffindor virtue? I heard you went to school here, too..." one of them spoke up.  
  
"What are you implying?" she snarled. "I was in Gryffindor? I should think not," she paused, and laughed haughtily, looking at their surprised faces.  
  
"Then what house were you in?" another one said, narrowing his eyes accusingly.  
  
"Slytherin, gentlemen. Now, enough idle chit chat, I'm certain Professor Dumbledore could use something to do about now." She smiled as the color drained from their faces. "And, my dears, I'm sure to say one or two of you shall faint within your lifetimes..." she added, almost trying to say, "It wasn't what it looked like."  
  
She led them to Dumbledore's office; dinner had let out quite some time ago. "Sugar Quill," she said, and the gargoyle sprang aside. She walked up to his room, and knocked on the door.  
  
"Come in," he said, from the other side.  
  
Emilia opened the door, and the four of them filed in. She looked up, and saw that Snape was standing there, with a look of question on his face. "Just a moment of your time, Professor Dumbledore," she said quietly. "These students are charged with harassing a teacher and attempting blackmailing. Not only that, but they have this in their possession," she said, holding up the cloak.  
  
"What are my students doing here?" said Snape, bristling. "This is the second time today you've brought students to me like this." His black eyes narrowed.  
  
"I would have taken them to you," she replied, "but I thought harassing and blackmailing were a bit above you."  
  
She walked out, and she heard Snape say softly, "Good day, Headmaster." He soon was right behind her. "What was that all about?" he snapped, walking quickly next to her.  
  
"What was what all about? Those boys?" she sneered, stopping in her tracks. "I don't know, ask them." She was still extremely angry from before. What exactly did Minerva mean by that line...? "...How could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she--" Curious, she thought angrily. "Or do you mean me walking out of the Great Hall?"  
  
Snape looked her up and down, trying to figure out what she meant. "Both," he said sharply.  
  
"Well, for one, those boys were trying to harass me, and blackmail me," she said simply. "They saw you holding me in the dungeons...my goodness, doesn't that sound like a really horrid romance novel," she added as an afterthought, a bit quietly. "Anyway, they assumed that you and I have a `thing'. I told them off, of course," she was even quieter there. "Now, for the Great Hall, that simply was just Minerva, albeit you do have something there."  
  
Snape was quiet for a moment, trying to decipher what she had just said...about them. The students asking questions and all--curious. "What else was there?"  
  
"Minerva said something about how could you, and something about how you didn't ask," she said, her eyes flashing. "What did she mean, Severus? Was there something else? I can't remember that time period down there..." her voice trailed off, and she took a step back. Emilia felt sick to her stomach.  
  
"Why, though?" she mused out loud. She was still thinking about the fact that those boys had assumed...what made them jump to that conclusion so quickly? After all they have seen and heard her say, they still think that she could ever possibly be...that way? Or was it Slytherin antics?  
  
"Are you paying attention?" he snapped at her, bringing her out of her thoughts. He stood before her, his hands on his hips, glaring at her.  
  
"Er, what?" she said slowly, trying to guess what he had said. "My mind was elsewhere, pardon me," she said, crossing her arms.  
  
"I was saying that whatever you heard Minerva and myself talking about is none of your concern. After all, like someone wise once said, `Assumptions lead to the biggest mistakes', although I think his words were a bit different," he said, a bit annoyed to have himself repeated. "You didn't eat dinner, either."  
  
Emilia glared at him. "Didn't know you cared, Severus," she said sarcastically.  
  
He sneered at her. "I don't care, I was just saying something more should have annoyed you if you didn't eat," said Snape, almost but not quite satirical. "Anyway, I have other things to attend to," he finished, and started to walk away. Emilia bit her lip.  
  
"Severus, you don't suppose you know the way into the kitchens? Thinking about it, I really am hungry," she said. Her stomach had this gnawing feeling in it. "Those potions definitely aren't quite what I'm used to."  
  
"Speaking of which," he said, turning slowly around, "I do need to have another look at that shoulder. The bruise should be gone," he said, seeing Emilia's bewilderment, "but I want to make sure there isn't...any more damage. I must admit, this is the first time I've hurt someone...outside using my wand."  
  
Emilia blinked. He was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be used to that sort of thing by now? She was still confused...he acted almost concerned about her shoulder. Was he really that surprised that he had the ability to do that, or was he truly sorry? Or...was it...? No. Couldn't be. He wouldn't be afraid of her running to her father...and saying a fellow Death Eater of his hurt her...rather unusual, unless his loyalty was wavering...or had it already?  
  
Interesting, she supposed. She shrugged. "I guess you could take a look at it later on," she said slowly. "But first I want some food. Where's the kitchens?"  
  
Snape's lip curled in a most vicious way. "By all means, Emilia, I think you should know where it is. It hasn't changed," he replied nastily. "And, in any case, I think that your shoulder is a bit more important than food."  
  
Emilia felt herself become cross. "Only because you have eaten, Severus, and I think my shoulder is only important because it deals with you and your reputation," she said with a cruel undertone.  
  
Suddenly, the four boys emerged from the statue and they had a look of triumph on their faces. Emilia glanced in their direction; the smallest boy, King, gave her a very cynical smile, then turned to his closest friend. Tugging on his shirt, he whispered something, and pointed at them. They both laughed.  
  
Each of them walked quickly away. Emilia frowned. Snape, beside her, clicked his tongue. "What was that all about?" he asked darkly.  
  
"Exactly what I told you earlier," Emilia promptly replied. "My goodness, I don't even want to think about that..." her voice trailed off. What would they think? It would be really hard to ignore that entire snickering in the Great Hall when it came to mealtimes...or any other time... Maybe she was just being paranoid.  
  
"Emilia?" a voice said softly, and she turned around. It was Professor Dumbledore. "I...am sorry to interrupt you for this..."  
  
His grave expression made her stomach sink. "What...is it?"  
  
"A letter came to me today. I think you need to see it," he said, his voice even softer. He held out an opened envelope, and Emilia took it hesitantly. Snape stood there unexpectedly.  
  
She looked up at Dumbledore quickly, and pulled out the white sheet of parchment. Unfolding it carefully, she read what it said:  
  
"We are sorry to inform you, Headmaster Dumbledore, (as you wanted to know information as soon as we had it), that Oliver Black (a high-priority Death Eater who was at large) has been captured by Auror Moody and has been brought in upon capture. It is with a sad ending that we inform you that the Dementor's Kiss had been performed (due to the fact the guard was off-duty) and Oliver Black is currently in Azkaban, in a high-priority cell. We are sorry to inform you of this.  
  
Cornelius Fudge  
  
Minister of Magic"  
  
Emilia's hands shook as she held the paper. Oliver Black...  
  
...Her father...  
  
...Was worse off than dead...  
  
Emilia felt her entire body seize up into once tense muscle. She had the sudden urge to run, or scream, or anything else instead of standing here looking at the paper.  
  
"What is it?" he asked Dumbledore, looking at Emilia. Dumbledore shook his head at him, trying to figure out what Emilia was going to do.  
  
She sighed in deeply, trying to regain her natural state of calmness. She folded the paper up, put it inside the envelope, and said quiet clearly, but calmly, "Thank you, Headmaster."  
  
She tried to look indifferent from her norm, but it was hard with Snape staring at her like she was going to explode into smoke. Or explode, at any rate. She held out the envelope to Dumbledore, and he took it cautiously. "I...I just realized I have to go now," she said quietly, but dully. "I...I've got something to do." She walked away quickly, trying not to walk away too quickly, or too slowly. Emilia didn't want them to know what was wrong. Or at least, Snape, anyway.  
  
Dumbledore murmured something to Snape, and he nodded. Emilia knew that Dumbledore murmured something, because everything became crystal clear to her. Everything...her eyesight, her hearing...became completely and totally clear.  
  
It was very unnerving, to know that her father was in a cell in Azkaban without any soul. He couldn't think, hear, read, interpret, talk--just breathe. He couldn't hold his own opinion, or his anything, ever again. He was indifferent to emotions, to feelings, to death...Emilia felt her hands on her face, covering her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, if she covered them, the thoughts would go away. Maybe, if she covered her eyes, she wouldn't have to see what the others saw.  
  
Emilia felt a hand on her shoulder. She stood absolutely still. Maybe if she didn't move, they'd leave her alone. She really didn't want to talk to anyone. Please, let whomever there leave her alone. Moving her fingers apart a little to see who was there. It was Snape.  
  
Covering her face up quickly, she shook her head vigorously. "Leave me alone!" she said, her voice muffled. "Leave...l-leave me...m-me...a-alone..." she stuttered, trying not to cry--crying was a sign of weakness, to her. "I...I haven't...a-any thing more t-to s-say."  
  
"Emilia," he said quietly, his hand still on her shoulder. "I can't leave you alone when you're like this--you're a danger to yourself," he said clearly. "Dumbledore wants to see you."  
  
Emilia gulped, and suppressed her tears. Moving her hands off of her face, she took a step back. They didn't understand. They saw her father as a monster. He wasn't. He was the best dad a girl could ever ask for. He was only a little confused when it came to right and wrong--like Voldemort said, there's no such thing as right and wrong, only power, and those too weak to seek it.  
  
"You don't know, do you?" she whispered tensely. "You don't? You don't?" she repeated, slightly hysterical. He looked at her and nodded in such a way that she knew--she knew that Snape knows. Dumbledore said something to him.  
  
"No!" she gasped. "No! You aren't supposed to know! Damn you, Severus!" she said quite loudly. She glared at him, her green eyes tiny daggers. "How dare you! How dare you come over here and pretend that everything is all right?" She was in full hysterics now. Her stomach had plummeted beyond anything else she'd ever felt. "How...dare...you?" she whispered, clenching her fists around her face, like she couldn't figure whether or not to cover her face again. "How...could..." she paused, and drew herself up. She wasn't going to give into her feelings. Twenty-seven years of suppressing emotions was going to pay off whether or not it wanted to. She breathed in, and straightened her robe. Emilia swallowed hard, like she was going to bury her emotions deep. Blinking, her eyes felt clear.  
  
"What was I saying?" she said, like nothing happened. "Oh, yes, quite. I'm hungry, that's right," her stomach protested the thought of food--perhaps it was easier to skip a meal, again. She needed an excuse to get out of here.  
  
"What are you saying, Emilia?" Snape asked softly, in his usual sardonic tone. "I think you may be a bit off in the head."  
  
Emilia folded her arms. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about. Oh, yes, Severus, you need to tell the Headmaster that someone else should work for you over the Christmas holiday. I think that I can't do it. Something's come up," she said slowly. Emilia blinked a few times. She could feel no emotions...she didn't want to cry--the feeling disappeared, and so did everything else she felt. Except this little gnawing feeling in her stomach. It usually happened when she did this--suppressing her emotions. She had that ever since she graduated until about a year ago. That was when her mother had died. Now her father was worse off than dead...and here she was, feeling the same kind of sadness, again.  
  
"Why?" he asked, almost frustrated. "I didn't ask to make the Pepper-Up Potions either. I don't think you should back off because you're afraid of what other people would think."  
  
"Do you really think that little of me, Severus?" she asked nastily. "I have been a Black all my life; don't you think that warrants me a little space to myself? Make the damn potions yourself...you are the Potions master, aren't you?" She seemed very irritable.  
  
Snape was taken aback at her maliciousness. "Fine," he snapped, glaring at her. If she was going to be irritable, cross and rude then so would he. "I'll make them myself, I've been doing it for years...but you will tell Dumbledore himself."  
  
She shook her head angrily. "I can't believe how much of an ass you truly are, Severus," she spat, clenching her fists. She'd never felt so angry in her entire life. Everything just seemed totally out of place, and Emilia couldn't deal with it. Not when everything else before was just going okay. This full force of changes rubbed her the wrong way. She couldn't help but take it out on someone. Too bad the only person that was near enough to be angry at was Snape. "I'm not going to take anymore of anything," she said vehemently. She reached into her robes and pulled off the bandages with great ease. The shoulder felt perfectly mended, except for the lasting five points of bruise, where Severus' fingers had dug into her shoulder blade.  
  
She balled up the bandages and stuffed them into her pocket. Rotating her shoulder roughly, she felt her bones crack. It hurt so much, it brought tears to her eyes. Emilia had this sudden urge to show off to Snape, to show that she needed no one--after all, she was alone now. A lonely orphan...and she never did get to say goodbye to either of them.  
  
Snape looked at her face, and saw flickers of sadness and anger creep across them. It was only natural; she was angry at the entire world because her father was practically dead. It wasn't her fault this happened. She was probably angry with him for letting himself to get caught. He bristled at her, though. Snape was never one to let someone get away with nasty comments to him.  
  
Emilia clicked her tongue at him, in an almost tutting sort of way. She felt herself start to move--where was she going to go? She felt very drowsy and very...very...tired.... Emilia felt her eyelids become heavy. She never did go to sleep after the potions. Emilia leaned against the wall to hold herself up. All this in one day was too much. She was now facing to corridor to the left of her, and Snape was on the right...he did seem far away, Emilia noticed. What did that man give her? That wasn't just the Soothing Solution...she felt like she needed to sleep...it must have been something along the lines of the Drought of Living Death...or something quite similar. Who knows what Snape could have put in it? He never did really like her much.  
  
She couldn't stand being sick to her stomach. This was the second time today, she realized furiously that she'd felt this way. She also didn't feel like herself much. Emilia was never one to express her emotions properly. She either chose to ignore them or get angry. It was obvious she'd gotten angry. And now she was sick to her stomach. Emilia needed to get away from him. She didn't want him to see her this weak...this vulnerable.  
  
Of course, it's not like she didn't have anything to be sick about. For instance, her father was worse off than dead. He was the only one to keep Voldemort away. He was a Death Eater, but he never pressured her to join him. Emilia thanked him whole-heartedly for this; but now, it seemed, she was going to be questioned...persuaded...  
  
Emilia wished Snape would look away. She knew, even without looking at him, that he was staring at her. She could feel his terrible penetrating stare. Emilia felt her stomach jolt. It would be so easy to just...go away...right now...  
  
"Severus, do you think that maybe you could do something a bit more creative than standing there?" she snapped at him, gripping her stomach with all her might. "Your damn potions are tearing apart my system!"  
  
"My damn potions?" he sneered, walking up to her with the swish of his cloak. "It's quite your fault you are like this. In fact, I think it's for the best. He did get what was coming, your father."  
  
Emilia's eyes opened wide. How dare he stand there, while she was on the verge of regurgitating what little she had for lunch, and mock her father...? She clenched her fist, and swung up with all her might, but missed him completely. Emilia was knocked off balance by the momentum of her arm, and had unconsciously pushed herself away from the wall, to give her more leverage and force. She went toppling into Snape.  
  
Severus wasn't expecting this; at the last second, he'd uncrossed his arms and managed to stop her from falling to the ground, by gripping her under the arms. Her unexpected weight and the looseness of her body made him bend his knees to catch her so that she didn't fall. Standing up properly, he tried to get her to stand as well, but she obviously wasn't co-operating. Her eyes were very dilated, and her body went slack.  
  
"Damn you," he said softly, as she tried to look up at his face. Her eyes were out of focus; she looked really terrible. She looked...extremely drugged. When she blinked, she blinked on eye at a time--and as she tried to speak, her mouth wouldn't move at all. In fact, nothing seemed to move on her. "Madame Pomfrey needs to fix this," he said, more or less for his benefit. That'd mean she'd see the marks on her shoulder...  
  
He tried not to think about it. He was acutely aware of the fact that he was going to have to carry her to the Infirmary. She had a low blood sugar count, he knew; what else that was caused by the Soothing Solution was totally beyond him. He wished now he'd never have helped her.  
  
Severus looked at her with a look of determination on his face. He bent down and hooked his left arm around her knees, and his right supported her back. Her head bobbed slackly as he walked, and she could now barely keep her eyes awake. What was making her so terribly sick?  
  
Avoiding the main halls that were frequently used, he got her to the Infirmary quickly. Walking in, he set her down on the nearest cot, the white linen of the uniform bed contrasted greatly with her black robes and made her skin look even paler and sicker than before. Severus noticed with a tone of amusement that for being somewhat tall, she was rather small in figure...and weighed even less.  
  
Madame Pomfrey bustled in, and looked from Emilia to Snape. "What happened?" she rushed, moving quickly to Emilia's now unconscious body.  
  
"She just started to act weird, and then...this," Severus replied coldly. "She hasn't had anything to eat today, except for a small breakfast."  
  
Madame Pomfrey put her hand against her forehead and began to check her blood pulse. "Is that it, Professor?"  
  
He paused for a moment. "Yes; that is all."  
  
- 3 - 


	7. Things Aren't The Way They Seem

AN: It's finally here, and I know that this doesn't seem long, but this is the conclusion to part one. I can finally write the act two about the Yule Ball and finally what everyone wants. It's not going to come easy, though, so please. Oh, btw, the reason why these two were so late was b/c there's two chapters for the price of er...one...okay then. Ttyl, people. Toodles.  
  
Chapter Seven: Things Aren't the Way They Seem  
  
Emilia awoke to find herself in a dark room, and covered in heavy blankets. Her eyes came into focus rather slowly, and she found that the entire room was lit with rays of moonlight, shining through the window above her and on the other side of the room. She could see the entire room quite clearly: it irked her how eerie it was looking around the room, propped up on her good shoulder. She could tell that she was in the Infirmary; she'd been there many times before. Once, as a suggestion from her head of House to undertake a dietary movement and another three times when she fainted from anorexia. She did not have fond memories of this place.  
  
She sat up, or at least attempted to. Her shoulder's pain was now full of force, a stabbing pain. Apparently, whatever Snape gave her did not work. Or maybe it was totally counter-acted when she took off the bandage, and in turn took off the healing medium.  
  
Emilia pulled off the covers, and stepped onto the ground. The entire room had a chilly feel to it. Emilia wanted to know why she here. Who brought her here? The only thing she remembered was trying to slug Snape...then her head was bobbing loosely for a while, and then she remembered something with a burning sensation forced down her throat. She remembered sputtering, and then a loud swooshing noise. She assumed that was the air escaping the pillow as her head fell on it.  
  
She glanced to her left. A rigid body was sitting in the chair beside her bed. The head was slackly lying on his chest, with his arms crossed. It looked like he was sleeping. Emilia peered closer. Yes, it definitely was a man...and there was no mistaking that black hair. It was Severus Snape.  
  
Emilia put a finger to her chin in amusement. He'd decided to stay at the Infirmary with her. How...almost touching. She would have been more touched if she didn't remember that nasty comment he made to her before she fell into his arms...my god, she supposed, breathing in sharply. It'd been so long since she'd felt that kind of tenderness. What was happening to her?  
  
Why did she feel...almost safe, because Snape had watched over her? Was she really that thick-minded? Could she be...possibly...did she have something for him other than hatred? Was it...? She didn't even want to think about it. The thought--this very thought--had occurred to her, earlier...was it this year--just a few months ago? She didn't feel anything. At least, she tried not to--because if she did, then she'd be vulnerable. Emilia had enough experience with life to know vulnerability was not an endearing quality and it was not some control to bestow upon anyone.  
  
She must admit, she did feel much better. She ran her fingers through her hair, which was knotty and uncombed. She suppressed an irritable sigh, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Gathering up a red and green blanket (complementary for next Sunday's Christmas holiday), and stood up and opened it wide. Emilia lifted it up, and covered Snape with it. He shifted in his position, and Emilia almost stepped back in surprise. Seeing that he wasn't going to wake up--at least, for now, anyway--she finished covering him up by bringing the blanket up to his shoulders. At least, if he was going to actually sit next to her bed, she could at least make sure he wasn't going to freeze. It was winter, and the castle was naturally cold.  
  
He shifted again, and then he opened his black eyes. Emilia froze, as she was extremely aware that she was leaning over him, putting the blanket on. Her hands gripped the edge of the fabric, which were perch precariously over his shoulders. Emilia felt her hands drop the fabric immediately, and she took a quick step back. She didn't say anything.  
  
Snape sat up straighter, and unfolded his arms silently. "What are you doing?" he asked softly.  
  
"I was just covering you up, what did it look like?" she replied, her voice quiet but somewhat harsh. "And I want to know what's going on. Why did I have another episode like that again? Was it from the potions?"  
  
Snape stood up, gathering the blanket that had barely any time to collect heat. He tossed it on the bed carelessly, and covered his mouth in a yawn. "I think you may have had a more serious reaction to the Soothing Solution," he said.  
  
"Is that all?" she snapped. "I hope you know what it's like to feel like your insides are being turned out."  
  
Snape looked at her. "I do, and I also want to let you know that you didn't eat and you didn't sleep properly, which added to the problems, you idiot girl."  
  
She bristled. "I'm not an idiot girl," she whispered tensely, clenching both of her fists. "It was your fault I missed lunch and tea and din--"  
  
"It is your fault you missed dinner," he interrupted. "I think I've got at least that one down. And because of this little stunt, I now, under the Headmaster's orders, have to do all of the stupid Pepper-Up Potions myself. I do hope you are happy about this."  
  
"Ecstatic," she sneered. "You're most welcome."  
  
They stood there silent for a moment. Snape shifted, and crossed his arms, while Emilia looked away, and sat on the bed. She unconsciously yawned. It must have been...what, two, maybe three in the morning? The moon was high, but not at it's highest. It felt very eerie in there.  
  
Emilia looked down at her hands. There was something that she needed to know. "Severus," she said slowly, "why do you hate me so?" Normally, this wouldn't have bothered her, but for some reason...it mattered. It actually mattered why.  
  
Snape looked at her quickly, turning his head. "What?"  
  
Emilia clasped her hands, and took a breath. "Never mind," she said at last. She didn't want to know anymore. She knew that he hated her for what she was. Emilia didn't need him to confirm that; his snappish, "What?" solved it all.  
  
But not who--not who she was. Emilia sighed, and pulled her covered around her. She fell back asleep instantly, leaving Snape standing there, pondering in the dark.  
  
He turned around and sat down, and looked at Emilia's sleeping body. He watched her, again, like he'd done before. Severus felt so damn guilty, for putting her here like this. From her description of her problems, bed rest was going to be implemented. Severus recalled the conversation with Madame Pomfrey after she fell asleep. She had told him that along with a low blood sugar count, she was suffering severe sleeping problems and borderline anorexia. Again, she had said. Severus had no idea that she was like that again. She also said something about emotional distress. After all, he supposed much longer afterwards; her father did just die today.  
  
But Madame Pomfrey said something about his being a problem for a while. What other stress did this young teacher have to endure? It couldn't be possibly all him; after all, she'd been dealing with people like him for a long time. She keeps telling Minerva this, at any rate. What other things were going on in this girl's life?  
  
Severus looked down at her, again. He remembered doing this when Madame Pomfrey was explaining all that she found. Only to ask what kind of potion to use; she'd really hadn't seen this case in a while. He nearly laughed...what kind of potion to use exactly. It was that kind of help that got her here in the first place. Then she suggested he stay with her, because she'd gotten really no sleep since the flu season started.  
  
His head had turned quite sharply at that. Stay with this wench the night, to make sure that she was all right? The thought never occurred to him then--the thought that he should stay--but he was taken aback. He reluctantly agreed, noticing that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't take anything else but yes.  
  
So, here he sat, for three hours. He just sat there, looking about the window above her bed, quietly thinking. He'd really didn't get around to having a good thought in a while; ever since the school year started, it'd been quite a whirl of time passing quickly as wind. Severus never suspected that this girl would be such an opponent...she actually fought back with him.  
  
He never really fought with her because he wanted to inflict misery onto her. Otherwise, he'd have done that with Lupin two years before. Severus enjoyed watching her get angry, and come back at him with quite sarcastic comments. He thought it great fun to finally have someone who wasn't such a sore loser when it came to quirky comebacks.  
  
His mind drifted back to the dungeon...and he frowned. Why did he offer to help her? It must have been guilt. Truly, he had never really hurt anyone before, unless you count the initiation into the Death Eater crowd. Which brought up even more questions: how did she know that he was a Death Eater? He'd never seen her before this year, and he never knew her father at all...just their reputation.  
  
And the way that she was afraid of the gel. She was actually acting meek, like she didn't want him to touch her. That made his stomach churn...was he really that bad of a person? He never really saw himself as a terrible person, only one that wanted to be left alone. And when he did finally get her to...show her bruise...it was so big Severus nearly gasped. He inflicted a bruise the size of a baseball on her shoulder. How could he have been that angry? But what irked him the most was how she fell nearly instantly relaxed after he had set to work.  
  
And when he held her...it had been so long since he'd held a woman, and then, again in the hall. It was so comforting to have her in his arms. Almost too comforting. It scared him. Did he have feelings for this young woman?  
  
There were too many unanswered questions, he thought darkly--too many.  
  
The week of holiday passed quickly; it seemed the entire school wanted to stay for break. Simply because of the Yule Ball, but it was rather unusual all in all. They were also making notice of the absence of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who, after the incidents with the potions, had been confined to her room with bed rest. Emilia absolutely hated this; she could only go out and walk around a night, when Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be on her tail.  
  
The next day was Saturday, the Yule Ball. The amount of chatter was quite thunderous Friday evening, when Emilia finally walked into the Great Hall for the first dinner she'd had in a week with company. She was still pale, but she was much healthier, none-the-less.  
  
Emilia took her seat, and rested her chin on her hands. Dumbledore walked in, his unusually festive robes billowing out behind him. "Ah, Emilia," he said, as soon as he saw her, "I'm guessing you are much better?"  
  
"Of course," she said quietly. In that entire week by herself, except for visits from Minerva (they were on speaking terms again) and Pomfrey, she had too much time to ponder. She thought about her father, mostly. Emilia was terribly sick with pain from her father's unexpected and untimely death, and she still wasn't over it. She also thought a lot about Severus, too. Emilia hadn't seen him since last Sunday.  
  
About them--what was going on with them? Was there anything? Curious, she had thought many times before. It was all quite odd--she didn't know what to make of it.  
  
Dumbledore didn't know how to respond to that. So he didn't, and glanced at the ceiling, which was swirling with a black and purple effect, from the over-crowded clouds. She felt bad for skiving off Dumbledore like that, so she tried again.  
  
"So, then, the Yule Ball is tomorrow?" she asked brightly. Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Are you sure you are up to it?" he asked tentatively.  
  
"Yes, I am," she replied firmly. "I'm going and I'm going to have fun." She laughed.  
  
The evening meal appeared, and Minerva walked in. Emilia noticed that Severus was not at dinner. She wondered why this was. Minerva sat, and she turned to Emilia.  
  
"Emilia! It's a nice change to see you back here," she said happily, piling food on her plate.  
  
Emilia did the same, and smiled. "All the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts...I think I missed it!" she replied somewhat dryly. Smiling, Emilia added, "Quite the turn out for the Yule Ball, this is."  
  
"Yes," she replied. "Fourth years and above. I didn't realize that there were so many students above that! All of my Gryffindors stayed," she added proudly, "and Sprout said that most of her Hufflepuffs did as well. I think Albus is going to make this an honorary tradition in memory of Cedric Diggory--or at least, a happy tradition for all that's to come."  
  
Emilia looked at her plate. She didn't know what to say to that. So she didn't reply. The two of them talked a lot over the last week. Emilia now knew Minerva like a sister. It was almost comforting, finally having a proper friend for once.  
  
"Er, sorry," Minerva said, and they finished their meal in silence. Tomorrow the Yule Ball would arrive--and when it did, it would be quite a shock for all of them.  
  
- 2 - 


	8. Forever and a Day

AN: GRRR! This thing won't let me upload so deal with Notepad. K, then, sorry that this appears to be somewhat short, but this is chapter 8 and part two of my little thing. Just to let you know it's only short because it's the transitional piece. The next maybe two chapters will focus on the Yule Ball and all it's happenings…you know what that means. : Insert random Ricky Martin music (or any Latino music, really) : Someone is going to get laid! Er, no…that's not it-not at all. Seriously-that's something I just can't write. I can't even write Severus as old as he is falling in love with my character whose just five bloody years younger. You know it was going to happen, but I've got to change some things first…I'm not saying anything more, everything that you need will be explained in part of this and the next chapter. It's just…I can't really write romance stories, but I love to read them. I find it much easier to write sarcasm and gore than mushy snogging romance. That's why it's going to take me nine or ten chapters to get through ball (er, did I just use "ball"…not that kind! Get your mind out of the gutter! The red one that rolls! ::blinks at random giggling:: I think I just made it worse…)  
  
One for the road: "You know you love Harry Potter too much when…track 12 on the soundtrack doesn't frighten you anymore…"  
  
"…you opt for cloaks instead of normal coats…and robes for normal clothes. Fuck pants and shirts."  
  
"…you find yourself loosing hours in fanfiction.net."  
  
"…you say, 'I want a red and gold scarf' and get so fed up with people not taking the hint you make yourself one  
  
…and it looks like a sock."  
  
And don't laugh…I've done all of these…especially the second one. I'll be walking out of school, freezing, and go, "I want a cloak!", just out of nowhere. ::laughs:: yeah, you guessed it. It's beddie-time for bonzo.  
  
D/C: (Haven't had this in a while)…er, I don't own HP but just Emilia. On with the show! Read and review! Please? ::Bambi eyes::  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight: Forever and a Day  
  
Christmas Eve had finally arrived at the castle, and everyone was talking quite happily. Decorations were everywhere; holly and ivy were strung in the halls, and there were large and very full evergreens in the Great Hall, which were littered with stars and chiming bells. The atmosphere was pleasant and cheerful, and even Peeves the Poltergeist (donning his orange and green bow tie) was sporting something else than the students to tease and jeer at. Probably House-elves, she supposed airily.  
  
The day was sunny and bright, and Emilia found that most of the students chose to go outside and have a winter's day out instead of being warm in the castle. She, on the other hand, chose to pick out a book from the library and read until it was time to get ready.  
  
Even in the countless books, she could only pick up a book she'd read when she was younger: The Adventures of J. Robin Warren*: Sneezing His Way to The Top. It was a fairly large book that she'd read it in her seventh year. Defense Against the Dark Arts with a terribly gone wrong Charm, and a Squib on his way to power—what was there not to read? As she was walking back to her room to drop it off (tea was with Minerva at three), she bumped into Snape.  
  
He was holding out a purple flask that was smoking a silver color, and when he smacked into her, he held it up over his head. Severus snapped, "Watch where you're going!"  
  
Emilia threw back her hands in a huff. "Same to you!" she replied angrily. "I didn't round that corner in a hurry, like you did."  
  
He threw a nasty look in her direction and continued walking quickly in the other direction. Emilia shrugged, and continued forward herself. Last night, he never did show up for dinner, and he didn't either for breakfast. Emilia didn't really believe it, but she was starting to suppose that Snape was avoiding her. At any rate, he was definitely acting much more unusual since the Infirmary visit. Much more secretive, and even more quick to snap at her.  
  
Emilia didn't really care, though. The Yule Ball was at seven and it the clock she passed in the hallway just chimed three. She wasn't big on looks (as she was fiercely against superficiality—which person needed that kind of judgement anyway? Half these teachers here, she supposed quietly to herself, needed to have their teeth redone. Then again, so did half of England. But that was just superficiality!) Although sometimes one couldn't help it, and she did want to look nice—besides, she did need to bathe.  
  
At six-forty, she was supposed to meet Minerva near the center staircase so they could go in together and make sure that everything went smoothly. After the tea, Emilia walked up the staircase and gave a little sigh as she opened her door. Setting the book down on the table, she opened her "forgotten" trunk and pulled out her dress robe.  
  
It was a shimmering gold robe that looked quite like a liquid. It was her mother's dress robe, and the only thing she had left from her. It almost reminded her of how much she despised parties and balls and anything that required her to dance and drink and be happy. She set it gently on the bed, and went to get ready.  
  
"Emilia!" Minerva said, waving her hand a little. She turned her head, and saw that Minerva was by a statue that was one twin of the center staircase. Emilia's face broke out into a smile, and she walked quickly over to greet her.  
  
"Hullo, Minerva," Emilia said airily. "Pulling out all the stops for this one?" Emilia was referring to the fact that she had on a flattering deep blue robe on and her black hair—usually done in a tight bun—was in a French knot at the base of her neck. She looked quite nice.  
  
"It's still a bun," she said loftily, and Emilia laughed a little. Minerva gave her a little sarcastic "ha-ha to you too", and waved her hand to the stairs. "Shall we go, then?"  
  
Emilia nodded. She walked down the stairs, and felt the swishing of her robes on her legs. She could never get used to the material. It was like silk, but it felt like polyester. Not to mention that the robe was a little too small, which she found out after she had gotten out of the shower. It made her feel a little self-conscious where the robe pulled taut—in all the wrong places. Emilia flushed a little bit at that thought.  
  
Passing a window, Emilia glanced up. The darkness outside created a reflection, and Emilia quickly glanced at her image. Her hair was twisted up into a pile of curls on her head, tentacles of flyaway hair conforming to her face. She really didn't feel like doing her hair in something elegant, but nonetheless it ended up being something really time-consuming. Emilia laughed inwardly. Two bloody hours to get ready…what would Snape say? Something along the lines of, "Takes that long to cover up and dress up? Trying to pick someone up at a school function?"  
  
She and Minerva walked into the Great Hall to see that students were already in there, taking their seats at the tables. The Great Hall had been transformed into a light blue color for the atmosphere, and the candles that usually hung from the ceiling were hanging down even lower, to give it a mysterious feeling (or, as Emilia thought even more, a romantic feeling. It made her want to laugh. How silly she was being!) There were random ice statues on tables surrounded by wreathes of berries, punch bowls, cups and ladles. The decorations were superb, and Emilia started to get quite excited as she walked around with Minerva, who was randomly chatting with miscellaneous teachers.  
  
Minerva walked up to Dumbledore, who was chatting with Severus. Dumbledore, she noticed, had on a periwinkle blue star-and-moon robe, with a matching hat. He looked a little like Merlin, Emilia thought jokingly. Severus, on the other hand, had on a black formal robe, and except for the material, and that was a bit heavier and much shinier than his teaching robe. Emilia thought quite quickly that he did look better now in this light and with better hygiene (it looked like he actually washed his hair!). Emilia smiled sardonically. She never would have thought that Snape would come to a dance, unless he was forced. It was kind of a funny thought, trying to imagine him two-stepping with anyone—or even waltzing.  
  
"Hello, Albus," Minerva said. They were in a small circle, and, as Emilia noticed, Snape seemed to want to shrink away from it. He was torn from finishing his conversation with Dumbledore or leaving it for later and walking away. One foot was behind him, and it looked like he was going to walk away after all.  
  
Emilia watched him walk off, and turned back to the conversation. She didn't understand any of it. She missed the punch line, and as Dumbledore was chuckling appreciatively, she told Minerva she was going to walk around for a while. Minerva gave her a confused look. Emilia shrugged in reply, and started to walk around. She needed to do something much more interesting than stand around. Standing around really was never her thing; she much preferred to walk around or even…dance—but as a last resort.  
  
She got herself a glass on punch, and sniffed it cautiously. She was dealing with fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years here. Ages 14 to 18 and some younger. She knew what they do; after all, she's done that sort of thing herself—spiking the drinks or putting something in it then laugh as soon as they took a sip…and then there were the countless potions, charms, hexes and whatnot to add. It was quite a job trying to take a sip of punch, she reflected.  
  
She walked outside, and saw that winter's touch hadn't gone into the prepared garden, where students and teachers alike were walking around. It was almost nicely warm, although it was outside—Professor Sprout must have made some décor changes, she thought happily. Some bushes were in full bloom and flowers were here and there, giving the walkway a splash of color. Emilia thought, if she were going to walk around, it would have to definitely be out here, in the warmth and quiet. Except for the snogging couples, she thought darkly as she passed one. It wasn't even seven-thirty yet, for goodness' sakes.  
  
She rounded the corner, and saw that the many miscellaneous walkways that lead through and twist around the gardens all lead here, to a fountain. It was a unicorn, rearing it wondrously carved head, and water was spouting from the end of the horn. It was quite magnificent; the water was a variety of blue, yellow, green, red, and orange. It made it look like it was spraying rainbows into a white marble pool below.  
  
The only thing out of place was the person sitting at the pool's edge. The black of him contrasted immensely with the colors of the pool, which formed a soft sky blue as it touched the pool's bottom. The man sitting there was none other than Severus Snape.  
  
"Severus?" she asked softly, walking up to the pool's edge. He glanced at her, almost angrily, then turned back to the water. Emilia was puzzled, but didn't inquire on anything. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence.  
  
"What do you want, Emilia?" he said, almost haughtily. "Can't you see I'm trying to be by myself?" He stood abruptly and rubbed off his robes in such a manner that it looked automatic.  
  
Emilia was taken aback. What was his problem? She hadn't done anything…yet. She furrowed her brow and willed herself not to get mad. Too late, her brain replied almost angrily itself. Emilia almost didn't know what to say back to him. She was…what did people call it…flustered? She'd never been flustered before.  
  
"What is it?" he snapped at the silence. Emilia noticed he couldn't bring himself to look at her.  
  
"Nothing, just walking around," she replied angrily. "It's almost time for dinner, and just wanted to get out of the Great Hall before it became stuffy. What is your problem?" she added before she could stop herself.  
  
"Nothing," he sneered. "And why would you care whether or not I've had dinner?" He crossed his arms and started to walk up the passageway she'd just taken. Emilia clicked her tongue impatiently and rushed to catch up with him.  
  
"I don't know, I just thought with this being some sort of formal you could act less like the ass you are everyday!" she said vehemently. "Couldn't even expect that, could I?" She glared at him.  
  
"I didn't know you were expecting me to be civil," he said softly, in such a way that meant he was being extremely sarcastic. "And what are you comparing to—you? I've been known to be civil when there is someone around worth being civil to."  
  
Emilia frowned. "You are such a—" She never got to finish her sentence. As the two of them took a step, she heard a loud swish of wind and water. Suddenly, it was as if a huge bubble popped, and the both of them were soaking wet. There was a whoosh of air as the bubble popped, and Emilia felt very odd. She felt smaller, at any rate. Her sopping wet black hair was in her face, and she tried to push it out of her eyes. Everything around her felt wet.  
  
She held up her arms to examine the damage. Her robes were soaking wet, and they clung to her most unfortunately in all the wrong places—accenting them as they gathered to her. Emilia looked over at Snape, and gasped.  
  
He was as soaking wet as well as she was, but he looked so much different wet…or he looked younger. The age lines from his eyes and mouth were gone and replaced with smooth skin. His hair was a little bit longer, but that wasn't from the wetness. There was a definite addition of the looseness of robes around his waist, like he lost a lot of weight…and it was added to his chest and upper arms, because there was definitely was tautness there. In other words, Emilia thought quite senselessly and even more childishly—he looked really quite cute.  
  
"What happened?" he sputtered, and looked up at her—and stopped mid- sentence. Emilia blushed foolishly at his deep stare.  
  
"What?" she said sharply. "Oh, never mind what," she added, and pulled out her wand. "Men," she said absentmindedly, "never can be resourceful." She waved her wand around quickly and the both of them and muttered, "Impervious**!" The water that was on them seemed to be repelled, as both of them stood there completely dry, which, Emilia thought happily, was a nice change. She lifted her arms and examined her robes, and found them to be dry. Then she put a hand carefully on her head, and felt her hair to be dry. The spell went okay for her. Glancing at Snape, she saw that he appeared dry—but, the way he was acting, she could care less if her remained wet for the rest of the dance.  
  
Now what had happened to them? Why did the both of them appear wet? And, to a higher extent, why did Severus look extremely young? Like, ten years younger? Emilia turned to ask him this, but he was busy brushing off his robes again, and probably wouldn't pay much attention to her. She took a breath, and said, "You look…different."  
  
His head snapped up. That one got his attention. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Younger," she said, trying to pick the right word. "Much more fit."  
  
Sighing irritably, he brushed by her and went over to the water fountain. He looked in and she heard an audible gasp. "What?" she said quickly, and ran over herself. She looked in the fountain, and saw her reflection:  
  
She looked like she was seventeen again. 


	9. Won't Even Recognize It Anymore

AN: Ah, screw it, I'm going to post this, but don't expect another one for a while b/c this one is a lot. Don't know if I've told you but i got the HP sheet music, and i figured out where Family Portrait came from. It's actually called "Leaving Hogwarts" on the soundtrack. I just figured it out, and I've had the thing for like, two weeks (which makes me wonder, did I tell you this? I must have.) Anyway, all you "I wanna romance" these two chapters are it. No sex, sorry, I can't do it. there are some other ones out there that can suffice, but mine just ain't gonna be it. I'm a good girl, really I am. lol...er, maybe not. Hear Alan Rickman's wonderous speech at that Variety Club Award and then it'll make you wonder...what *does* go on beyond the doors of the set? Daniel's cute-sounding, anyway. Going through pubery, eh? Don't feel bad, so am I. Lol...EVIL HORMONES! Nah, just learning the lessons are bad. Binge Drink in moderation. Purging is easier after the first time. PMS is our way of getting back at men. Live and learn, then die. Life's little lessons.  
  
Read "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" if you want a laugh. That book is soooo cute. Anyway, you shall love me for doing this, but here's the currently unedited chapter 9, and beware: this will probably be revisited for revisions, b/c I have not revised this at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Nine: Won't Even Recognize It Anymore  
  
She tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. It's hard to look in the mirror a few minutes ago and see yourself close to thirty—then, look in it again and see yourself not even as twenty! She couldn't believe how young—or, for that matter, how good she looked. No wonder Snape looked at her the way he did…Emilia forgot the way she looked when she was younger.  
  
Which explained Snape's appearance as well. He really had it going for himself when he was younger, she noted. "What happened to us?" she said, not taking her eyes off the water.  
  
"It appears we stepped into some sort of Age Line that does the opposite of a normal one," he said, leaning back away from the water. "They covered it well with a Water Charm." Emilia nodded. The only thing that ran through her mind was could this be reversed?  
  
Not that she didn't enjoy the prospect of being young again, but she was young still. She couldn't even drink legally yet. And the teachers…they already didn't accept her because of her age. It took her a long time to get to the age she was at before, and she quite enjoyed being able to be an adult. Now, technically, she wasn't even out of school yet. Seventeen was the last year of Hogwarts. Standing up straight herself, she said, "We've got to tell Dumbledore."  
  
Snape's head snapped up. "You two!" he shouted sharply. "Out from behind those bushes! Now!" Two young boys stumbled out of the bush at the sharpness of Snape's voice. Emilia looked up, and saw it was Potter and Weasley. What were they doing…? Snape's face was contorted with anger, and he didn't look at all convincing as he usually did. "What are you two doing here?"  
  
Emilia looked on as Potter helped Weasley to stand. "Nothing, Professor," he said casually, and his face was completely normal, totally not flushed. Unless he was completely unabashed about himself and Weasley, he seriously wasn't doing anything.  
  
"What were you two doing?" Snape sneered, glaring at that both.  
  
"Nothing," they replied quickly. "It's not against the law to walk around, is it?"  
  
He eyed them suspiciously. "Potter! You wouldn't happen to know a Water Charm, would you?" he said softly.  
  
"Yes, Professor," he said defiantly. Potter glared back at Snape. Emilia watch with interest. She'd always heard that he hated the Potter boy the most above all of his students. This would be a prime opportunity to take points away, she thought.  
  
"And a Reversal Age Hex?" he said sharply.  
  
"A—a what?" Potter said, looking confused. He looked at Weasley, who shrugged. Emilia watched him mouth, "Hermione'll know."  
  
"Why aren't you at dinner?" Snape continued.  
  
"None of your business, Professor," Potter replied stoutly.  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor for your tongue!" he snapped angrily. "Now, go back to the Great Hall!" He pointed to the pathway they had just come from. Potter looked at Emilia, and turned his head sideways. Weasley whispered something and the two of them walked away.  
  
"Why did you do that?" Emilia said angrily. "You didn't see them around here earlier, and you must have known no sixth year could have done it!"  
  
"That Potter boy," he said darkly, "know more spells and hexes than any sixth year. And he manages to get away with everything. Dumbledore's Golden Boy," he added, saying the name like a dirty word. He turned his head promptly to her. "Well? Aren't we going to tell Dumbledore what someone's gotten away with?"  
  
Emilia glared at him. "Don't be a prat to me because you've had a bad comeuppance," she snapped at him sharply. "And yes, I do want to tell Dumbledore." She turned and walked up a different path, not bothering to see if he was following. Soon, he was walking right next to her. Emilia felt extremely short. That or he was a little bit taller than he was before.  
  
Emilia walked into the Great Hall slowly, as not to attract attention. Dinner was in service, and the chatter was quite magnifying, considering the quietness of the outside. They walked up to the table, and sat down. The Hall seemed unusually quiet, and there was a random clattering of silverware everywhere. The band continued to play a lulling tune.  
  
"Emilia?" Minerva whispered, looking at her oddly.  
  
Emilia felt herself blush furiously red. "Professor Dumbledore," she said, "I think—"  
  
"Someone's used a Reversal Age Hex," Snape interrupted, taking a goblet of juice. Minerva turned to see him, and her mouth dropped even further opened.  
  
Emilia looked at her and said, "Minerva!" Immediately, she straightened up and turned back to her food. The other two teachers at the table kept staring at them. Emilia wished they wouldn't do that. It made her feel extremely self-conscious.  
  
"Wait until after the meal, and then we'll fix this mishap," Dumbledore said softly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Nothing can be done until we get into my office later. Until then, please, eat," he said, waving his hand at the table.  
  
Snape picked up the menu, still looking at Dumbledore with suspicion, like there was something he could do right now, but decided against speaking up and turned to his plate to order something quickly. Emilia couldn't bring herself to get any food, but she ordered something out of politeness. Minerva was quiet, and then she turned to Emilia, her face full of questions. "What happened to you two? You look…extremely younger."  
  
Snape answered. "Some child tried to obviously play a trick," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Emilia frowned at him. He had no right to act that way. He was just being irritable because something happened to him that he couldn't get fixed right away. So he'd have to spend a few hours a little younger—at least he wasn't underage. Emilia couldn't find why he wouldn't want to stay this way, anyway. He was twenty- two now, she thought, by looking at him. He could do all the things other adults could and was still of age to do the rest. At least he wasn't trapped in childhood still!  
  
Minerva looked very taken aback. Emilia glared at him. "That was uncalled for, Severus!" she snapped at him. "You may act like that toward me, but you don't need to act like that to everyone. Or is it, you don't know any other way?"  
  
"I don't know any other way," he replied dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. Dumbledore coughed, and everyone turned to look at him. He stood, and cleared away some of the empty tables to create room for dancing. The band struck up the keys, and soon a fast dance was playing. Students began to move into the dancing area, and Dumbledore sat down.  
  
"This is a school formal—if you can't behave above a third year, I think you need to leave," he told them softly, mostly aiming at Severus, who was never able to cope with anything. He got the hint and looked extremely self-pitiful. Emilia lowered her head in shame. Minerva touched her hand carefully, and laughed.  
  
"He's always an ass," she said in an undertone, so that Dumbledore (who was getting up with Professor Sinistra to dance) wouldn't hear. "Thanks, though."  
  
Emilia smiled. "Had to get even with him…he doesn't take change well, does he?" she said, looking at him. He was sitting across the table, and he was looking fiercely in a certain direction. Trying to catch someone doing something inappropriate instead of letting them have fun, no doubt.  
  
"So…how does it feel to be seventeen again?" Minerva asked, looking over at the dance floor. She was interesting in dancing, Emilia could tell, but wasn't quite ready to go so soon after she ate. Emilia smiled. It'd been so long since she's wanted to dance.  
  
"It's…the same as it was then," she said finally, trying to think of redeemable answer. They talked a bit longer, about the décor and the rest of the Great Hall. Emilia talked about her excursions in the garden, what it looked like, and what happened after she met Snape. Even Minerva had something to say about his appearance.  
  
"He does look rather different, doesn't he?" Minerva said, looking at him. Emilia nodded. "He's almost…cute? Is that the word?"  
  
"About him?" she said incredulously, looking at Minerva with an odd expression on her face. "This is Severus Snape we're talking about here."  
  
Minerva sat straight up. "Oh, shut up, Emilia," she snapped playfully, and the song ended. Dumbledore walked over, and smiled at them.  
  
"Oh you bumps-on-a-log, why don't you get up and dance?" he said breathlessly. "Emilia, would you care to dance?"  
  
Emilia stood up. "It's been so long, Professor…" she said, and looked pleadingly at Minerva. She didn't want to dance at all, but Minerva shook her head. Minerva shrugged, and stood herself.  
  
Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "Call me Albus, Emilia," he said happily. "It's just a two step, that's it." Minerva had moved over to the other side of the table now. "And you too, Severus," he said.  
  
"What?" Snape said, looking up to see all three of them staring at him. Emilia had a look of malicious laughter on her face, Minerva was standing next to him, and Dumbledore was smiling kindly. "No. Absolutely not!" he said, standing quickly. "I don't dance! I'm not going to—"  
  
Minerva took his arm. "Shut up, Severus," she said merrily, dragging the protesting Snape into the floor. He was resisting with all his might. He had the look of contempt on his face, which he threw at Emilia fervently, as if were her fault he was about to dance.  
  
Minerva waved her hand at them, and Emilia was trying to choke back laughter. Dumbledore turned to her. "Shall we dance?"  
  
The color drained from Emilia's face. "You were serious?" she squeaked. "I can't dance!"  
  
"Sure you can," he said, taking her hands like a father teaching his little girl. They went out into the middle of the dance floor, and they started to do a very untimely two-step. "Isn't his fun?"  
  
Emilia smiled weakly. "Sure it is, Dumbledore," she said meekly, and glanced at Minerva and Severus, who seemed to be dancing quite well. Emilia had a sudden fit of jealousy. Jealous for what, she didn't know. She turned her attention back to what she was doing, and found that the two- step wasn't too bad or hard to learn. It was actually kind of fun. She started to laugh at herself, and Dumbledore took this as having fun.  
  
The song soon ended, and they found themselves right next to Minerva and Severus. Both of them looked breathless. Minerva looked at the two of them, and laughed. "Time to switch," she said, handing off Snape to Emilia, who stood there a little confused.  
  
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Emilia said to Minerva, pointing very obviously at Snape. He tsked angrily at her, and cross his arms.  
  
"Dance, Emilia," she said cheerily. "It's not hard." Dumbledore and Minerva smiled at them, as the band paused before beginning the next song. "Please, do dance with him!"  
  
Emilia smiled and turned her head. "It's not for me to decide," she said to herself, as her face fell. He was standing there, looking at her with a "Well, what are you going to do?" look on his face.  
  
Why could he take this one up, she thought darkly, as she walked over to him. "There's not going to take no as an answer," she said quietly.  
  
"Never stopped you before," he snapped. "I'm going to sit down." He looked at her, and turned to walk away. But he stopped when he saw her face. It was totally downcast, like she'd been in this position before. The kind of position where your two "friends" ditch you and someone else on the dance floor. You don't want to dance, but you resign to do anyway. The other person walks away, though, making you feel silly and worthless. Yes, it was painfully obvious she'd been in this position before. And Emilia, well, her face never did hid any secrets.  
  
Snape suppressed a sigh. He didn't know why, but maybe he'd actually dance with her. "Emilia, come here," he said.  
  
She looked at him with this odd sort of face she usually got when something was suspicious. "Why?"  
  
"Because you have to come over here to dance," he said, taking a couple steps forward. "Put your hand on my shoulder."  
  
"I know how to dance," she said softly, and her face was a pleasant shade of red. She put her hand gently on his shoulder, and the other one she held out for his hand. He noticed she stood as far away from him as she could stand and still be able to dance. He smiled. Well, he didn't know he had this kind of power over her, he noticed, as her face was a determined red. She was cute when she blushed.  
  
Severus swallowed hard. Just those simple hormones of twenty-two, that's it. He put his hand in her own, and his other around her waist—but pulled her closer. Her face was almost but not quite level with his, he finally noticed, and her face was sort of leveling off as just magenta…this made him smile wider. So it was like that, was it?  
  
The music had started to play, and slowly the two of them dance on the floor. Severus knew how to waltz, and apparently, so did Emilia. Severus noticed, she fit quite comfortably in his arms.  
  
Emilia willed herself to stop blushing. The last time any man held her close like this was when she was in her final year at the final ball…and that was all a joke in itself. Her face finally began to feel cool, and she noticed that Severus really could dance well.  
  
"This'll give them something to talk about," he said, pulling her closer. Emilia turned her head away from him.  
  
"What will?" she said to his other side, backing off a bit.  
  
"Us. Dancing, I mean. Can't you see them?" he said, and Emilia could feel his head glancing around. Emilia looked around, and she did see people looking at them.  
  
"Gee, thanks Severus. Any nervousness I had was just multiplied by ten," she replied sarcastically. "Anything else you want to tell me? Like I forgot my dress robes?"  
  
"If you did, I certainly wouldn't be holding you this loosely," he said quietly. Emilia looked at him with an odd sort of smile.  
  
"Gee, thanks a lot Severus," she said dully, and felt herself being moved closer than before. What the hell was Severus playing at? Not that she was complaining…. This twenty-two year old self she was dancing with was quite cute. She could admit that now, at least. She wasn't going crazy…yet.  
  
But this was Severus! Did she have other feelings for him, or was this seventeen year old hormones? Ugh, another thing to be thankful for in adulthood…none of these damn hormones. The song ended as quickly as it started, and Emilia found herself wanting to stay right where she was, but instead she found herself pulling away. "Thank you," she said dryly.  
  
"Oh course," he said, bowing. She gave him a sarcastic smile and walked back to the table, where Minerva and Dumbledore were now seated as a pause.  
  
Emilia took her seat, and looked at Minerva. "That was cruel," she said as soon as she sat down.  
  
"Thank you," she laughed. Severus glanced at Emilia one last time, then turned to Dumbledore to talk. "I've never seen him take to anyone like this," she said at last, looking at Severus.  
  
"What?" Emilia sputtered, as she was drinking some pumpkin juice.  
  
"I think he likes you," she said quietly.  
  
Emilia felt herself blush. "Shut up, Minerva," she snapped. "That's not even funny to joke about. You know how much I dislike him."  
  
"Yeah. It was so apparent when you danced," she said dryly, looking at her with a sly smile on her face. "You looked like you absolutely hated it."  
  
Emilia turned her head away quickly. She knew it was pink again, but she wasn't going to give Minerva the satisfaction of knowing this. Quite frankly, if Minerva was going to be like this, she didn't even want to talk to her at all. She glanced up, and saw the Severus was looking at her. She turned her head sideways and he shrugged, turning back to Dumbledore, who was chatting avidly. Sighing, she looked beyond him and at the students dancing and all-in-all having fun. Minerva nudged her in the ribs.  
  
"Sorry, touchy subject," she said, grinning. "Care to explain the little exchange of faces?"  
  
Emilia glared at Minerva. "Will you shut up already?" she said exasperatedly. Minerva smiled and sat up properly. Shrugging, she took a long sip from her goblet (Emilia suspected it had a bit more than just pumpkin juice at this point, judging by the way she was acting).  
  
"Want to take a walk, then?" Minerva said, eyeing Severus and Albus, who had just stood and were making their way out to the gardens (no doubt to check out the place where they were when the spell had taken place).  
  
"What are you implying?" she said in an undertone. "I don't want to. I want to sit here until I'm changed back or you sober up, whichever comes first."  
  
"Are you implying that I'm not quite straight?" she said defiantly, her accent faulting a bit. "I'm perfectly sober!"  
  
Emilia shrugged. She wasn't going to argue with Minerva in all her unstableness. "Fine, Minerva, you're sober. I don't want to follow anyone, though."  
  
Minerva stood up. "Who cares what you want," she said, pulling Emilia up by the arm. "We shall follow them. If Albus finds a way to change you back, you'll do well to be there."  
  
Emilia protested greatly, until finally a student came up, looking quite embarrassed. Emilia stopped struggling, and Minerva stopped forcing her to go. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?" she said, not mistaking that red hair for anything.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder to see his other twin (Emilia couldn't tell which one it was standing here versus the other one) and Lee Jordan, their best friend. "Do..." he turned back around at them. "Do you want to dance with me?"  
  
Emilia smiled triumphantly. She got out of Minerva's grip, and said quite happily, "Sure." Minerva looked put out, but then she straightened herself.  
  
"Well, I'll go and be the good friend and see what else I can do for you," she said huffily, walking out of the Great Hall and into the gardens. Emilia smiled.  
  
"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," she said, standing up properly. "I really appreciate you interrupting us." This time she wasn't sarcastic at all. She was quite thankful that she didn't have to listen to Minerva's tittering about "what possibilities they could have together". She prepared herself to sit down when an arm caught her shoulder.  
  
"I really did mean it," he said, blushing slightly.  
  
Emilia looked up at him guiltily. Now walking with Minerva would have been fine! "All right, then," she said hesitantly. He did, after all, interrupt her in her time of need. What little price did she have to pay just by dancing with him? It wasn't even like he was a fourth year or anything. He was...  
  
...just...  
  
...as physically as old as she was...  
  
which was unnerving in itself.  
  
He led her onto the dance floor, and just be it her luck, it was a slow song. Emilia resisted frowning. He looked at her (and she still didn't know which one it was, Fred or George?) and smiled. Emilia smiled weakly. Okay, this was getting weird: that was all that ran through her mind. Very odd indeed.  
  
Fred or George took her hand and kind of got a little waist happy as he pulled her in. Emilia steadied herself and took a small step back. "Very funny, Mr. Weasley," she said, trying to sound firm and strict. Minerva-like, even. She was definitely not used to this attention from men. It was very odd, and she did not like it at all. Well, maybe from Severus she didn't mind, but otherwise it was totally unwelcome, she thought with a small smile. God, did she hate hormones. Because that's what she was relying on as the sole stem of these confusing and unwanted feelings from him. Just hormones, right?  
  
He gave her a lopsided grin and started to dance. All that ran through her head was the Muggle Broadway, "Anna and the King". Mentally she smacked herself, and forced herself to dance properly. He, at the very least, looked like he was enjoying himself. No one seemed to want to question her appearance, or the fact that she was young again (or, perhaps younger still). She didn't mind it, but still she would have expected some sort of questioning by now, not some passes made at her. His brother swung by with Miss Johnson (she assumed this one was Fred and the one she was dancing with was George, because on many occasions she's caught him and his girlfriend Angelina Johnson in a room or two), and gave him a devilish sort of grin. George Weasley returned it, and swung Emilia back around.  
  
"What are you doing?" she said as he dipped her, pulling his head close to hers.  
  
"Just some holiday cheer," he replied. "Nothing to be concerned about, Professor." He lifted her back up, and smiled widely. It seemed those two twins were constantly all smiles. Not that she minded it, but they had a tendency to be smiling about all the wrong things, and not to mention, they were practical jokers. She wouldn't be surprised to walk out with a "Kick Me" sign on her back.  
  
"What are you two planning?" she said quietly as they swung past gawking students. Emilia felt extremely self-conscious. Even more so than when she was dancing with Severus (which, again, wasn't too bad of a thought).  
  
"Absolutely nothing," he replied again. Everything was a quick "nothing" from them.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. The song ended, and Emilia pulled back a little, letting him go. "Quite, then. Stay out of trouble, Mr. Weasley." She paused for a moment, reached up behind her, and felt something there. She pulled out her wand and flicked whatever was on there off, which said, "Here was Snape for the greatest run ever."  
  
Emilia blushed furiously, and looked at the Weasleys. They started to laugh. Emilia didn't even smile. She walked over to them, and held out the piece of parchment. "You had better hope with all the money in Gringotts there is nothing else in there or your beds will be so cursed whoever you lay tonight will be covered in spots tomorrow morning," she said fiercely and quickly, still not smiling.  
  
Their faces fell, and the waved their wands quickly to get rid of whatever was on there. She smiled sweetly, and shoved the paper into his chest. "Thank you," she said. They nodded, and turned around. She grinned and pointed two signs onto their backs: "Will work for a brain," and "I tried to think once: look how I came out" which had a picture of a troll underneath.  
  
Emilia laughed as she turned away, and went outside. Anything was better than being bombarded by either those twins or any other students queuing up to dance with her. She gave one last glance at them, and saw that people were pointing and laughing at them. They were still completely oblivious. It made her laugh even harder.  
  
She walked out into the gardens again, keen on finding Minerva. She stopped when she saw that Severus was the only one there. The other two had disappeared, and she didn't know where they went.  
  
Emilia walked up cautiously to Snape, who was still examining the ground. "Er, Severus, do you know where Minerva went?"  
  
He shook his head, still looking at the ground. "I think they went that way," he said, pointing in the direction she had just come from, which showed that he was of no help to her at all.  
  
"Are you even paying attention to me?" she said sharply, and he finally looked up. She put her hand on her hip and waited for his answer. He slowly raised himself up (he was bent over) and finally reached his full height, which ended up being two inches taller than her. She took a step back, and kind of smiled meekly. "Like I was saying," she said, looking up now at him, "Where is Minerva?"  
  
"She went off somewhere. I don't keep tabs on the woman," he snapped at her, crossing his arms. "Was that all you wanted?"  
  
No, her mind raced. I want to...damn hormones, she thought quickly, before that thought entered her mind. "Fine, be a prat," she said sharply, turning away and crossing her arms angrily. If he was going to be a jerk, well then fine, she wasn't going to co-operate then neither.  
  
He threw his hands up in the air. "I was being bloody serious! What did you want?" he said exasperatedly. He gave her a withering look.  
  
Emilia uncrossed her arms and she pointed in the direction of where he'd pointed. "Do you know what sort of ridicule I got in there?" She suddenly got a fun idea. "I want to show you something," she said.  
  
"Don't you think that's going a bit fast?" he said dryly, walking next to her as they made their way back to the Great Hall.  
  
She looked at him. Punching him on the shoulder gently, she said, "My God Severus, you have a very twisted mind."  
  
"If you knew what I was talking about, then you have one just as equal," he replied softly.  
  
She gave him a very sardonic smile. "Ha-ha," she said. "Come on," she said, as she entered the Great Hall, and sat down casually at the table they were at before. He came up and sat next to her, turning to look where she was pointing.  
  
The Weasleys didn't get wind of what was on their backs, and were still right where she had left them. He read the signs, and laughed. Emilia looked at him. She'd had never ever heard him laugh before. It was...almost cute. It was a deep laugh, but far from booming. It was sweet, and she wondered why he didn't laugh more often.  
  
And she wondered why she was thinking these thoughts. She must be going out of her mind. Emilia looked away from Severus and back at the two Weasley boys. "What brought this on?" he asked. "Something must have made you do that."  
  
"Nothing gets by you, does it?" she said quietly. "Well, if you must know..." she paused in suspense, smiling widely.  
  
"Yes, I must, I must," he replied monotonously, smirking.  
  
"They had a sign on my back that said, 'Here was Snape for the greatest run ever.'" She said simply (and rather quickly, she noticed). Severus' eyes got rather large and then he turned to the Weasleys, standing up.  
  
"No! Sit down," she said, reaching up to grab his arm but ended up grabbing a bunch of robes, and pulled down on them. "I took care of it in my own way."  
  
He sat down, grumbling. "I refuse to let that sort of thing happen. It's not fair to me," he said. "And you," he added in an afterthought.  
  
"Well," she said slowly, "you act like the meanest teacher on campus and you expect...what?"  
  
"Respect," he snapped. "I didn't come in here for a character debate, Emilia." He scowled at her.  
  
Emilia threw her hands back. "Fine!" she snapped, standing. "Fine! Have a jolly good time by yourself. I was only trying to show you something I thought was funny." Emilia glared at him contemptuously. "You only know how to act really bad to people, don't you? Sarcasm and acting like an asshole is all you really know."  
  
Severus stood up, and looked down at her (like it was some sort of big thing to be taller than she was), and said softly, "You only know how to be a naïve little girl who is extremely melodramatic and acts very much like a tramp." And with that, he walked out of the Great Hall, leaving Emilia to feel somewhat foolish and even more confused, because Severus Snape only spoke the truth, and that would mean what he just said was completely true. 


	10. The Way It Was Before

AN: This is short, I know, I know. So what. Um, I'm not having writer's block, unless you count the fact that I CAN'T WRITE ROMANCE AT ALL! I'm sorry, it's just really, really, really hard for me to write. So you're gonna feel shirked at that end of this. But, I promise you er…"more action". I dunno…maybe it's the fact it's Severus Snape. Maybe it's cuz I'm not a public affection person. Maybe I'm weird. Who knows.  
  
You people shall be on bent knee for this, though. My comp crashed and I had an evil virus. I think I explained this somewhere else. However, I did change the name of chap nine, if you are wondering. It's not that cheezy title. It's something else. Ttyl, hope you enjoy. Read and review.  
  
  
  
Chapter Ten: The Way It Was Before  
  
Emilia watched him walk out, her mouth slightly open in true surprise. She was angry, very angry, with him. Clenching her fist, she would like nothing more than to tell him off then maybe give him a good left hook across his over-sized nose. But first she had to analyze what he had just said.  
  
Was she melodramatic…? Maybe a little at times, but who isn't? And she was very far from being naïve. And for acting like a tramp…what did he mean by that? She had, in her mind, never given off anything that would allude to something so sinful. Emilia would never fancy herself as a tramp, or anything of the like.  
  
Then, what she did say must have stung a little bit. She just called him an asshole, for goodness' sakes. So much for the "did I like him?" thing—even her hormones now got the better of her. Damn him. He brought it on—he can deal with it.  
  
Minerva came in (or nearly stumbled, would be more accurate) and sat down where Severus had been just five minutes ago before he stomped off to who knows where. "Hullo, Emilia," she said clearly, her cheeks a little flushed.  
  
Emilia breathed in quickly, to calm herself down. "Hullo, Minerva," she replied. "Are you okay?" she asked, tilting her head sideways. Minerva seemed to be acting really weird, and it wasn't just the drink.  
  
"No, I'm fine," she said loftily. "Absolutely peachy-keen." The way she said it was very obvious she was completely off balance. Not only that, she slurred a bit. Emilia resisted the urge to giggle.  
  
"Where have you been?" she asked Minerva, turning to face her, the golden goblet of pumpkin juice in her hand. "I've been looking for you." Well, that was true. She was looking for her when she ran into Severus. And she was partly the reason she felt so confused, when she slyly left them in the middle of the dance floor, just inviting him to dance with her. Emilia was swamped with change: the change of Severus on the dance floor compared to ten minutes ago, physical and hormonal change.... Then it started in with Mr. Weasley and his sign, and that concluded with her and Severus being angry with each other. So, technically, she was looking for her. And, technically, she really wished now she hadn't.  
  
"You wouldn't have been looking for me in you came with me instead of dancing with a student," she replied curtly. Minerva was still smiling, though. "Oh well, then."  
  
"Did you find anything out?" she said, trying to change the subject.  
  
"I didn't follow them," she said, putting her hand on the table with a small slap. "I took a visit elsewhere."  
  
"Where?" Emilia was confused.  
  
"Do I have to bloody tell you everything?" she snapped, grinning. Emilia looked at her for a second then got it.  
  
"Ohhhhh...." she said knowingly, nodding. Minerva's drink didn't agree with her, and that's why she a little off. Bathroom visit. Emilia laughed. "So, anyway..." she said, shifting position and setting down the empty drink.  
  
"What did Severus stomp out of here for?" she inquired. Emilia turned up her head sharply at her.  
  
"What else? He truly is an ass, Minerva," she said, looking past her and watching the people on the floor. From out in the hallway, the clock chimed ten.  
  
"That's not what I saw when you two were dancing," Minerva replied quietly.  
  
Emilia glared at her. "Shut. Up," she said, her voice dangerously low. "One more—"  
  
"Hello you two!" Dumbledore said, greeting them graciously, sweeping himself into a chair across the table. "How is it all going?" He set his discarded hat on the table, and the tip was quite limp, like the hat had been through hell that night. Dumbledore was breathless, but he looked like he was having the time of his life.  
  
"Fine," Emilia and Minerva replied at the same time. They looked at each other, and laughed.  
  
"Well, I can see things are going well..." he glanced around. "Where's Severus? I thought he was with you, Emilia." Emilia looked up, and saw a figure glide into the Great Hall and walk over to the table.  
  
Minerva opened her mouth to say something, but Emilia interrupted her first.  
  
Emilia drew in a quick breath, and gave the man behind Dumbledore a cold look. "I don't know where he is. I don't keep tabs on the man," she replied icily. Severus was standing right behind Dumbledore.  
  
Severus opened his mouth, then closed it, crossing his arms. He narrowed his black eyes at her, then took the seat next to Dumbledore.  
  
"What is it that you needed, Headmaster?" he said politely, glaring menacingly at Emilia.  
  
"We can try to reverse whatever happened to you," Dumbledore said, picking up the hat and standing up. "This dance is nearly done," he said grazing over the floor, which had some lonely couples talking and one or two of them dancing to a tired band's beat. With a wave of his wand, the entire Great Hall was cleaned up, and the students took the hint, leaving. The band walked over, bowed politely, and exited as well. With a final flick of his wand, Dumbledore replaced the Great Hall to its normal state, and turned, smiling. "Shall we go, then?"  
  
Emilia nodded. Severus stood and pushed in his chair. "Good night, Minerva," Emilia called out as they took their separate ways when they exited the Hall. "Hope for the best!"  
  
"I shall!" she replied, waving. "Hope for no head problems in the morning!"  
  
Emilia laughed. "Madame Pomfrey can help you in that matter!" she called back happily. Turning back to Dumbledore and Severus, she smiled.  
  
"Good night, Minerva," Dumbledore called out, and waved his hand toward the way to his office. "Let us go, now," he added to Severus and Emilia. Severus looked really cross, and kept shooting glares at Emilia as they followed Dumbledore, who was keen on keeping a conversation with them, even though none of them chose to respond.  
  
"May aren't you two bundles of joy to be around," he said softly, opening the gargoyle and going up to his office. "I hope changing you back will help your attitudes. You both looked like Christmas was cancelled."  
  
"Tomorrow's Christmas, Albus," Severus replied irritably. "Just change us back, please. I can't stand this body or all it's happy attributes."  
  
"What, being young is an annoyance? Don't you have any pleasure in your miserable life?" Emilia muttered as they entered the room.  
  
"I didn't think you were all that keen on remaining underage, Emilia," he replied coldly.  
  
Emilia glared at him. "Sorry, didn't know you were looking for a good time," she answered dryly.  
  
Dumbledore turned around sharply. "Please, have a seat," he said stiffly, and the happiness that he had before seemed to drain out of him. "I don't know what happened to you exactly, but I need to hear every detail. Perhaps then, we can find a way out of your problem."  
  
Severus crossed his legs and put his chin huffily on his hand. "It's simple. We were walking and then it was like we hit a bubble. It popped, and then we found ourselves soaking wet. After that, we found out that we were not only wet, but we were aged down about ten years. I found Potter and Weasley lurking by; perhaps you should ask them what they were doing so close to the scene of the crime."  
  
Emilia frowned. "It wasn't them, Professor. Severus inquired about the incident and the boys truly looked like they were just in the wrong spot at the wrong time."  
  
"It seems every year they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. And besides, you are extremely biased towards them, anyhow."  
  
"And you weren't biased toward Malfoy when him and Weasley got into that fight a week ago? You didn't even do anything to reprimand him. You let him off easy. It seems you are more biased than I."  
  
Dumbledore breathed in loudly, and held up his hands. "Enough. I get it. What did you think it was, Emilia?"  
  
Emilia put her hand on her chin thoughtfully. "I think it may have been a Reversal Age Line, perhaps."  
  
"And you, Severus? What was your conclusion?"  
  
"I think it may be a Reversal Age Hex," he said simply, glaring at her, "covered with a Water Charm."  
  
"Hmm…both of those use great amounts of Dark Magic," Dumbledore replied reflectively. "Either way, both of those take a while to wear off."  
  
Emilia's head snapped up. "What? There isn't a counter-spell?"  
  
"Look," Dumbledore said, holding up a mirror. "In the time of the dance, you have aged appearance-wise one year—as well as Severus' appearance. In about a week, you should be back to your normal selves."  
  
"Christmas holiday ends in three days, Professor," Emilia said quickly. "When I attend my classes, I'll not be back to my old age!"  
  
"Like you were old to begin with?" Severus sneered. Emilia gave him a withering look. Dumbledore sighed deeply, and frowned contemptuously at him.  
  
"That's quite enough, you two. Anymore, and I shall have to suspend you from your duties. And we really need our teachers, so please don't make me do this," Dumbledore said sharply, tapping the table with impatience.  
  
Severus and Emilia looked up quickly at him, and Emilia felt her stomach pain guiltily. "I apologize, Professor," Emilia said, almost automatically.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. The clock chimed eleven, and Emilia fought the urge to yawn loudly. Standing, he said, "Very well, then. Please, have a good night."  
  
Emilia smiled gratefully and walked out slowly, Severus right behind her. Suddenly, she felt her shoulder be grabbed as Severus whirled her around.  
  
"Emilia, just what the hell was that?"  
  
Emilia glared at him. "Just what was what?"  
  
"That—that little stunt there in the office. The Headmaster is now threatening or jobs because you cannot hold your tongue," he spat, his face livid with anger.  
  
Emilia ripped her shoulder out of his reach and clenched her fists. "Same to you, Severus. There are two sides to the story, mind you. But you are the three-quarters of it!"  
  
Severus's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you implying?"  
  
"Exactly what you think I am," she answered snappishly.  
  
He took a step forward. No matter how he tried to intimidate her, his face full of youth gave away. Emilia laughed.  
  
Severus's eyes became little slits. "Why are you laughing?"  
  
She laughed harder. "N—nothing, Severus," she wheezed.  
  
He gripped her two shoulders, and shook her a little bit, unconsciously pulling her close. "Emilia…why are you laughing?" he all but hissed.  
  
"Like I said…nothing," she said, looking up at him. He was two inches away from her face, their noses nearly touching.  
  
Severus leaned in a little bit, deciding whether or not to go through what his brain said no to and his hormones said yes. He hesitated for a second.  
  
Emilia's mind began to whirl. Isn't this what she wanted? Hadn't she had feeling for him before? Before she could think about it anymore, his lips gently touched hers. Her eyes fluttered softly closed.  
  
He leaned back, and stood up straight. Emilia opened her eyes slowly, faintly aware she was completely still and rigid, her hands clasped at her heart and her head tilted up.  
  
Severus smiled slowly and backed up, turning around. She looked at him analytically, and noticed instead of what she felt reflected in her eyes, she saw cold and hardness, wrapped in a distorted embrace. She felt somewhat betrayed and even more so embarrassed. Emilia didn't know why.  
  
He'd kissed her, just a little, but it was still was kiss. Did Severus have feelings for her? Or was she just confused? After all this time, after all the nasty things they have said, have her feelings about him changed so much that instead of hate that should have been born of this situation, had it turned into love? She felt embarrassed, even more than that, though. Severus must think very little of her. She'd claimed that she'd hated him—that she wished ill to him, and here she was, being kissed! Because it was sure as rain that she didn't kiss him.  
  
But maybe, all in all, she loved him. It was pretty obvious the way she stood there. She had never felt so awkward. She knew it was obvious by that he knew she liked him—maybe even loved him.  
  
Emilia got this sick feeling in her stomach that he now knew how she felt, and he was going to use it against her. 


	11. Pain in Paradise

AN: I'm sorry about how long it took to post this. I have abandoned their romance for a brief intramural which should be interesting to read. Emilia doesn't demonstrate her clear-headedness in a panic situation…for instance, this one, I have just given her.  
  
"The fates have informed her…honestly, who creates the exam? She does," said Hermione, not bothering to keep her voice down.  
  
So…the fates have informed that I foresee something interesting…think "Sirius Black" for a moment.  
  
And something to browse about: have any of you seen Shrek? (That's an awesome movie, see it if you haven't). Anyway, you have to be quick to catch it, but look at the man who hands over the witch in the beginning. I don't know how many shillings he gets for her, I think twenty, but the man who walks away has black chin-length hair and a strong nose…and the first thing I think is Snape! "Dude, that is Snape!", I believe, were my exact words. However, should you catch him, tell me…  
  
And remember: a good reader reads and reviews. SO TAKE THE HINT. REVIEW.  
  
  
  
Chapter Eleven: Pain In Paradise  
  
Emilia stood there silently, quietly cursing herself for letting him kiss her. "Severus?" she said to his back.  
  
"What?" he answered, a bit more snappishly than he wanted. He turned his head to the side—as if what she had to say had meaning to him. Emilia reached out her hand, but pulled it back quickly.  
  
She swallowed hard; noticing that what she was trying to say was so hard to do. "D-Do—" she started, but was cut off when he whirled around completely. His black eyes were very large, she noticed. And for once, they carried a glint—a small glimmer, even.  
  
She shifted, and put her hand on her arm nervously. Her cheeks felt hot, for some fairly odd reason, and Emilia wished she hadn't said anything. "N-Never mind, Severus," she said, turning around. Her heart felt like a string had wrapped around it and pulled tight, while her stomach churned relentlessly. Emilia felt like she was going to be sick.  
  
She had to admit, she hadn't felt this flighty or this confused in nearly five years. Emilia wasn't completely naïve; she just wasn't used to public affection. She had this stubborn streak in her that was pure and extremely secretive. Emilia felt that public affection was for the birds, and that this sort of outward emotion should be held for private.  
  
But that were alone. That, she supposed most avidly, was her problem.  
  
It was embarrassment and guilt that was doing this to her. Severus stood there, looking at her, waiting for her to say something else so he wouldn't have to leave so soon. Emilia had never been so self-conscious. It was the way he looked at her, like she was going to be judged. Judged for what, she didn't know.  
  
He stepped forward almost awkwardly, and held out his hand, like he was going to comfort her. Finally, he stopped, and took in an audible breath. "I'm sorry, Emilia," he said quietly. "I overstepped my boundaries. I didn't realize you would have been so uncomfortable." He looked very guilty. And, she knew that he was serious. The dry ridicule that often hung in his stinging words was absent.  
  
Emilia studied his face and felt her stomach worsen. Imagine what he was thinking! He was either thinking she was a weak person, or that she didn't care for him the same way that he did for her—which was a huge step on his part to take, to do this. It took a lot of guts to do that and risk rejection or being scoffed at. She could think of what she could have done—she could have made a scene, right here, in front of Dumbledore's office. Severus had just risked about everything and anything he stood for, and she could see quite clearly that he was regretting it.  
  
"Don't say that," she said softly. She couldn't stand watching him look like that. She almost wanted him to know how she truly felt, but in the back of her mind, she knew that it would never work. Emilia was setting herself up for even worse feeling than she felt now. There was no way…simply no way. Her and Severus…she was simply out of her mind…  
  
Although, she realized she was sounding extremely sappy and straightened herself up. It was quite Un-Black-like to sit there and say such sappy things. They never did such a thing. It was like watching a Malfoy cry. She took a step back, and felt her hands fall to her sides.  
  
Emilia didn't want the moment to end, but she knew that standing there in silence was making anything she said have less meaning. She knew that this couldn't drag out until she figured something out to say—something that was what she was and not what should be.  
  
What she wanted to do was have him not stare at her in the way he was. He was looking at her in such a way that it made her feel uncomfortable. Not anything perverse, just that he was looking at her in such a way that made her feel guilty.  
  
She clenched her fist into a tight ball, until her fingernails dug into her palm. The nearby clock rung half-past the hour, inviting Severus to say something simple to escape this harsh situation—  
  
"I'm…sorry," she said at last. Maybe this would make up for the awkwardness. There was nothing else she could say to make any difference. Too much time had passed to say anything meaningful.  
  
Emilia's mind whirled. There was, of course, one thing she could do. But would it help either of them to have a relationship? He was a cold- hearted man, a former death eater that harbored more secrets than even she probably did. And she, on the other hand, was the offspring of the worst killers in the Reign of Terror Voldemort ran—not to mention cold-hearted herself. There was really no way for it to work…their relationship would bring more pain than it was worth…  
  
It was her new age, she supposed, that was making her feel this way. She should have known that this was coming. And yet there was something more, that little something that didn't go away—  
  
—even after all this time she had known him, the little something never went away. Perhaps it was there when she was her normal age, just didn't wake from its dormancy until now—  
  
"I've got to go," she said quickly, turning away. Where was this stupid feeling of awkwardness coming from? She'd never experienced it before, or if she did, she forgot where it came from. Her legs were walking even before she knew where they were taking her. She only knew that they were taking her away, but that didn't help their situation any better. If anything, it made all the matters worse. Severus had made his move, and now that he saw how she acted, he would never do so again. Did Emilia even want him to do that again? Yes…perhaps… Emilia was even more perplexed about that…why did Severus kiss her? Why did he risk everything, when he knew exactly what was going to become of it? It's not like the outcome was any different than what he expected…in fact, it was probably worse now because she dragged it out.  
  
In fact, Emilia didn't even think that Severus really knew how she felt. Before, when the situation was anew, she felt that maybe he thought into what happened, and saw that perhaps she wanted to be kissed. Now, the look on Severus's face, the look of utmost guilt, like one with their hand caught in a cookie jar, was far too much for her. She didn't even think twice that he wouldn't say anymore about this. This entire act would probably be dropped like a sack of bricks. He, of all people, would be expected to harbor his feelings for anything. That would be why he came off as such an insolent man, sarcastic and ruthless. She, on the other hand, realizing with growing dread in the pit of her stomach, was exactly like him in that aspect. She could never show her feelings. Emilia was never one for outward affection, except anger, which was formed in such a way that it ended up being extreme sarcasm.  
  
But Severus was different. He brought such a rise out of her, that maybe she thought it was nothing more than extreme dislike. But what was that she told Minerva that one time…it was nothing more than a passionate dislike. Passionate…  
  
Emilia didn't think she was ready for such a commitment as this. This entire situation was ridiculous, and she was reading far too much into that than she should. Maybe it was all in her imagination that Severus liked her. Maybe he never even kissed her, and that it was the wind on her lips of him moving away at the last second to see what she would do, like a test. Once again, she chided herself, she was assuming too much.  
  
As she rounded the corner, she felt her stomach drop. Normally, a staircase was supposed to be positioned there, but there was no staircase to be seen. In fact, it was a complete dead end, if anything. Emilia got this sick sort of sense that something was very, very wrong here.  
  
She backed up a bit, and frowned. Hogwarts was usually known for the fact that everything moved, but would an entire staircase get up and move? The pictures on the wall were empty, like they fled. Emilia had never noticed the pictures to be like this; she had always assumed that at least one of them would stay and guard the particular hallway. It was eerie and quiet. And Emilia realized that it wasn't even midnight yet. Where were all the pictures?  
  
She backed up and turned around the corner to find it deserted. Of course, she never expected that Severus would have stood there, but the castle was creepy after hours. She would give anything to see someone, just so that she wasn't going out of her mind.  
  
"Emilia, something the matter?" a voice said, and a hand touched her shoulder. She positively screamed, and jumped a foot into the air. Whirling around, she was breathing rather quickly.  
  
"Don't do that!" she screeched, as she backed away from the transparent figure. It was Sir Nicholas de Mimpsy-Porpington, or rather his better-known name as Nearly Headless Nick.  
  
"I'm sorry, Emilia, my dear," he apologized. "Didn't mean to frighten you. Still have my tricks, eh?" said Nearly Headless Nick, smiling lopsidedly. He was floating a foot off the ground, his white- pearly skin illuminating what was a dark hallway.  
  
She took a deep breath. "Just a bit jumpy, Nick," she said, clutching her chest. Her heart was beating nearly out of its ribcages. "The pictures around the corner and the staircase have fled, though," she said suddenly. "Do you know what happened?"  
  
Nearly Headless Nick shook his head vigorously. "Haven't a clue, Emilia. I was just on my way to there myself. All the pictures there are gone, did you say?" He put his transparent hand on his chin in thought. "I've only know pictures to flee when they are under extreme situations or are being attacked. Was there any sign of struggle?"  
  
Emilia thought for a moment. "I wasn't really paying attention too well, just looked about. The staircase is gone, and the pictures are empty. That's all I noticed before I was wary of traveling down there. I came back to look for—" She paused. She was going to say, "to look for Severus." Emilia shook her head mentally. She needed to stop thinking like that…and at that moment, the gargoyle flew open, a distraught Severus and Dumbledore running quickly out.  
  
"What's the matter, Headmaster?" Nearly Headless Nick exclaimed, floating over to them with ease. Emilia was not far behind him, the gold on her dress glimmering mockingly in the dimly lit hallway.  
  
He looked at them, and Emilia noticed that he looked older than she'd ever seen him, weary and distressed, his sparking blue eyes clouded in a mist of confusion. "Emilia, Nicholas, Hogwarts may be under an attack."  
  
Emilia's stomach fell through the floor and her entire body went numb. She clasped her hands over her mouth and gasped audibly. Hogwarts was probably the safest place in the entire wizarding world, because of Albus Dumbledore. If it were under an attack, then they'd all be in very big trouble…  
  
"There's someone from the inside," he continued softly, his fists clenched. "I need to alert the Heads of houses immediately, and get all the students in the Great Hall as soon as possible. They say pictures are one thousand words…and the pictures are missing. Which means that this is very serious, and under any circumstances, you are not to mention this to any of the students. I don't need a panic rush," he said firmly. "Emilia, you alert Ravenclaw; Nicholas, you alert Gryffindor; and you, Severus, you get your house there quickly. I shall attend to Hufflepuff." Nearly Headless Nick and Severus set out at once, and Dumbledore caught Emilia's arm. "Please, Emilia, send Minerva to me and take responsibility for her house…our Head Girl and Boy need to be alerted and all the teachers need to do a throughout search."  
  
She nodded. Such planning and swiftness these people acted on, like they expected to be attack at any moment in time…Emilia felt her legs go wobbly before she was on her way, the momentum of her breathtaking run helping her to work quickly. The halls seemed to get longer with each stride, and her breath was soon becoming harder to take. Why wasn't she getting anywhere?  
  
Finally, completely breathless, she reached Minerva door. She banged on his heavily; feeling the day's actions tired her down. If she was so young, she chided herself, why now was she so damn tired?  
  
"Minerva!" She said, still rapping on the door anxiously. Her body decided to finally wake up, and her adrenaline kicked in, at teenager speed. She finally got the "second lap" of awareness she needed for right now.  
  
"Wha—" she said, yawning, as she opened the door. Her hair was in a tight bun, with loose wisps of stray hair sticking out in odd places. She looked like she'd just woken up.  
  
Emilia, as tactful as she is, breathed in and said, "Hogwarts is under an attack, and Dumbledore needs you right now!" She looked up at the older woman, and took a quick heave of air.  
  
Minerva's eyes widened and she grabbed her day robes, which were hung up on a hook next to the door. She covered up her nightgown quickly and flew out of her room, her robes trailing behind her.  
  
"Don't worry about Gryffindor," she said to Minerva, she rounded the corner to go to the Tower. "You need to get to Dumbledore quickly."  
  
Minerva gave a quick glance behind, and nodded. "All right, then," she said, and turned to go the other way. She walked two or three steps to the right and stopped, lifting her wand. She tapped her wand on the wall next to the picture of Harris the Horrible and disappeared into the secret passage.  
  
Emilia walked quickly to the Tower, and saw that the Fat Lady was gone, her picture barren and Emilia's options severely shortened. How was she going to get into the Tower? She reached over and pried the picture, willing it to give. The only thing that accomplished was that her hands were marked from the metal.  
  
"Damn it," she swore under her breath, not wanting this to happen. It was going on about midnight, and she hoped with all her might that someone would still be awake in there. She raised her fists and rained a hailstorm of pounds on the picture frame.  
  
After five minutes of pounding, she got slightly inclined to be frustrated. "Open up," she said through her clenched teeth, trying again to pry it open manually. She thought to try "Alohomora", but that might be too easy. She furrowed her brow in thought.  
  
"What the hell…" she said, and lifted her wand. "Alohomora!" she screamed, pointed her wand with a grand spray of sparks and swirls. The picture frame did not budge. She was running out of ideas.  
  
"This is a bloody emergency," she said with a whine, kicking the painting. "Open up, god damn it!" Her patience was wearing thin. That's it, she supposed, lifting her wand again. She would blow away the picture frame. The damn castle was under attack; she needed those people out now.  
  
"Reducto!" she yelled, hoping that the magic in the picture frame was not so strong. Otherwise she would have to find another way…  
  
The picture shook tremendously, but did not give way. Emilia huffed, the sigh making her long hair take flight in the breath. If time would not age her, then this would.  
  
Finally, finally, the picture opened. A very tired George Weasley stepped out, who looked like he'd be disturbed from reading or studying (and Emilia laughed inwardly at this; the Weasley twins never studied).  
  
"What is it, Professor?" he said, a smile playing his face.  
  
She gave him a cold look, and his smile faded right away. "I need to get inside, now," she said, pushing by him and running into the maroon Common Room. "Weasley, take the boys' dorm, wake them up, and get them down here now," she barked, running up the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitory.  
  
"Why couldn't I wake up the girls?" she heard him yell, and go up the other side. Emilia started down the hallway, banging on doors and opening them up, waking up the all the years quickly.  
  
"Girls, get downstairs, now!" she cried, and they must have understood the urgency in her voice, because they got up quickly and were in the hall. Murmurs of "what's going on?" were heard, but Emilia didn't take time to her them all.  
  
She banged on the door that led to the four Gryffindor Prefects and commanded them to take order downstairs now. She pushed her way through them all and made her way down the spiral staircase, nearly out of breath but wide awake with adrenaline pumping through her veins. What if the perpetrator was in the Common Room now…?  
  
Potter! Her minded screamed, and she made her way through the crowd quickly. Her group, this group, was probably the most in danger. They, being Gryffindor and the ones terrorized by the relentless Slytherins, were probably even worse off than the Hufflepuffs or the Ravenclaws.  
  
Most of the Slytherins, she knew, disliked the Gryffindors for their common blood and their Muggle parentage. They looked down on this, and most of them—she knew only too well—become Death Eaters and stand by the side of Lord Voldemort.  
  
However much the Slytherins were tied to perfect heritage (more like inbreeding, she thought sarcastically) they also took it upon themselves to rid the rest of the Wizarding race who aren't born of pure blood. Gryffindors had the most amounts of Muggle-borns—those born without Wizarding heritage—than any other house in the school.  
  
And they had Potter. For nearly 15 years, that Potter boy had managed to escape the wrath of Voldemort. He is the Boy Who Lived. He is also Voldemort's worst enemy. Emilia should like to think that if he were going to head anywhere, her first guess would be nearly all of the Gryffindors, who were not only mostly Muggle-born, but also those who weren't simply Muggle-born adored those who are, and that was even worse.  
  
So, with the sinking feeling of dread settling into her stomach, she pushed her way through the girls, hearing the shouts of the Prefects directing them what to do. She stepped into the Common Room to see it full of the boys and those making it down the stairs groggily, yet most of them knew something was wrong, and the tension in the room was nearly unbearable.  
  
She walked into the middle of the room, and found herself at everyone's height. She sighed with frustration, the hissing escaping through her teeth, and climbed up onto the nearest chair, a plush maroon seat in front of the fireplace. "Gryffindors, listen up!" she yelled through the crowd, which to her dismay, did not change their volume.  
  
She took in a deep breath and boomed with all her might, "May I have your attention please?" That quieted the room. "I want you all to walk down to the Great Hall in an orderly fashion! I want you all quiet and organized! And I expect nothing less!"  
  
There was a murmur of question that rose through the crowd, and she breathed in heartily to continue. "Prefects, I want you to make absolutely sure that there is order, and if there is any scuffling, I want harsh point deduction! This is serious, and I'm probably right in assuming Professor Dumbledore will explain the situation to all of you when we get there." The Gryffindors were probably her best house to deal with, but she didn't need Fred and George Weasley's antics. Not now—she needed to establish order here, and she did not need anything else contrary.  
  
They filed out though the portrait hole two at a time, the silence that was evoked among them taking effect, to her happiness. The silence however was eerie and somewhat disturbing, but Emilia put that out of her mind quickly and escorted them quickly. Down the hall, she saw one of the teachers examining something on the floor, and she longed to be doing anything else but escorting children to the Great Hall. She figured that Dumbledore would surely put the Head Boy and Girl in charge, and leave her free to search whatever was left. She was the blessed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, for goodness' sakes.  
  
The front two Prefects, Hermione Granger and Katie Bell, opened the Great Hall doors to feel the whoosh of silent, stagnant air. Emilia peered inside, and saw it completely empty. The feeling of uneasiness settled in her stomach:  
  
Where was everyone? 


	12. Only The Good Die Young

AN: I'm sorry about how long it took to post this. This chapter has some pretty bad language in it. The chapter title was taken from Billy Joel's song, "Only the Good Die Young." This chapter is why I chose PG-13. In fact, these next few chapters are why I chose PG-13. So warnings are out now. Confused from the last chapter? A few things will be explained. And if you ask me what's going to happen next, I will tell you the truth: I don't even know. I make it up as I go along. Haha, eh?  
  
If you are a Pro-Lucius Malfoy person, please, don't flame me. I am not. However, anymore talking would give away the chapters next and now. So, don't flame, I'll laugh at you. Haha.  
  
I've been meaning to say this for a while (hell, 12 chapters) and just to let you all know, Emilia looks like Evie from The Mummy (specifically, the Mummy Returns), if you can't see what I see. That's where I took her looks from. Or not. Black hair...um, well, let's just say that when I created her in my mind, I didn't think of Evie until my friend pointed it out, and I said, "Yeah!". So, that's where she's from.  
  
Please review. PLEASE REVIEW. I can't ask enough. This is going to get a lot more tougher. People are going to die. Count on it.  
  
REVIEW: It lets me know I don't totally suck.  
  
Bye!  
  
  
  
Chapter Twelve: Only the Good Die Young  
  
"Professor…?" Granger said loudly, looking at the hollow room. Emilia searched her mind, trying to find a reasonable explanation for the absence of the entire school…perhaps they had to take longer than she thought. However, she now knew she had to stay with them because leaving would constitute the lack of a chaperone, and leaving Potter here alone was the dumbest idea yet.  
  
"All right then, everyone," she said casually, ushering them into the room, "Go on in." They took dubious steps inside, obviously expressing her inner concerns plainly on their faces. She saw they were afraid…and this was no help to her.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, the floor won't sink in on you," she said in a patronizing way. For all she knew, that could be why the Great Hall was empty, but she didn't dare think those thoughts, because she'd end up more than paranoid, and that was the last thing she needed with these students.  
  
They walked in cautiously, and with every step Emilia's sixth sense began to kick in. Where was everyone? The pit of her stomach hurt with a raging panic, knowing something was definitely wrong. She glanced about nervously, ushering the students in. If anything happened, she'd never be able to forgive herself…  
  
"Professor Black?" Granger said again, timidly. She was next to her now, and had apparently moved back through the crowd. "What do you want us to do?" The Gryffindors stood in a tight circle near the door, and they were condensed in such a way that if not for the Great Hall being so vast, she would definitely say there was a sense of imprisonment.  
  
Emilia turned to Granger, and looked at her with every attempt to hide the panic rising in her throat. This was wrong, this was all wrong. They should be here by now. All of them should be here. It should not have taken this long…where was Dumbledore? Where were all the searching teachers?  
  
Emilia swallowed hard and smiled, trying to clear her mind. She mustn't tell them what's the matter, she has to get them to safety…and Emilia couldn't stand it anymore. This wasn't safe. Not here, in the vast wide open area of the Great Hall. Something was wrong. They should leave right now…  
  
"Professor?"  
  
Emilia turned her head back to the crowd, ignoring Hermione Granger's persistent questions. She needed to think quickly: where could she escort such a crowd that was in so much danger, where could she take them so that they'd be safe…?  
  
A classroom. She could take them to a nearby classroom, and check the room. The Great Hall was eerie, and their questions toward her echoed off the walls. "Shh!" she said aloud, holding up her hands. Emilia quickly thought of an excuse to get them out quickly…  
  
She turned around and headed to the door. Just as she reached the doors, they slammed shut, all the clear air rushing out loudly. She looked up expectantly, and then ran to doors, pushing and pulling frantically. The Gryffindors got quite loud, their worried voices carrying very clear and loud.  
  
Emilia stepped back, and pulled out her wand. "Alohomora!" she cried, and her spell bounced off the walls in vein. Emilia's stomach, if possible, sank lower. The students were now extremely loud and panicky, and some of them were even crying.  
  
"Quiet!" she said, turning around quickly. "Quiet now!" she snapped again, louder.  
  
"Yes, Miss Black, very advisable," a voice said silkily, from behind her.  
  
Emilia whirled around to see them surrounded by dark hooded people, all of them towering over her twenty or so students. The head of them, who was facing her, lifted his hands and pulled back his inky robe to reveal a smooth, yet toughened skinned face, surrounded in pale blonde hair and gleaming icy blue eyes.  
  
"Malfoy!" she breathed in, feeling her heart pounding quicker than ever. Death Eaters surrounded them. How could they have broken in? And her Gryffindors…Potter…  
  
She backed up into the crowd of students, and automatically felt hands grab her shoulders. She winced not only at their grip, but the fact that one of the hooded figure's nails dug into her healing bruise, as they pulled her forward.  
  
Lifting her off the ground, they dragged her forward, away from the others, and immediately the other four people surrounded them. Emilia jerked her head around and kicked, trying to get them to let go. "What are you doing Malfoy?" she shouted angrily, kicking furiously. "This is the stupidest thing you've every done, you asshole!"  
  
"Tsk, tsk, such language," he said, as she was set down roughly in front of him and held there. "You are in the presence of students, my dear."  
  
"Don't 'my dear' me you prick," she breathed, glaring at him in such a way her eyes were angry green slits. She continued to struggle, wondering what they were going to do to the rest of them.  
  
He slapped her hard, and her head turned sideways quickly, the pain stinging up into her eyes. She whipped her head around and continued to kick, desperate to get away. Her cheek was red, and had a hand mark on it.  
  
Malfoy looked at her. "Don't you underestimate me, or the next thing you say will be accounted in a death," he said tersely, almost a whisper. "The death will be on your hands."  
  
Emilia's eyes opened wide with realization. They were all going to die in here. She figured that at least none of them would go down with out a fight…  
  
Stop thinking like that! her mind screamed. You need to get them out of here alive. Sighing inwardly, she raised her head and said, "What do you want Malfoy?"  
  
"Everything, naturally," he said, a sarcastic ring in his voice. "However, for the time being, the death of every single Gryffindor should do nicely," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I am quite curious how you, of all people, ended up her in charge of the Gryffindors. If I remember correctly, you were a Slytherin," he paused. "You hated those Gryffindors almost as much as I did. Even for a first year you showed a lot of talent in Dark Arts and extreme hatred. Must have been your upbringing, I suppose... Oh, yes, sorry about your father, now that I should mention it. Pity he has you to continue in his footsteps. Quite a good man, he was, to our cause. I remember some of the best times Muggle- terrorizing. In fact, weren't you there at the World Cup?" Emilia's cheeks flushed a reddish color, and she was aware just how silent the Great Hall was…  
  
"How dare you," she said quietly, finally resisting the two men. She glanced down and tried to suspend the anger building up. "How dare you talk to me like that."  
  
"How dare I?" he asked, walked up to her, and looked her closely in the face. Emilia kept her head down, and turned it away. "I think you are in no position for stopping me, Miss Black." He raised an eyebrow. "Quite a miracle worker your makeup is. I would almost think you were younger…" he smiled mischievously. Malfoy put his hand on her chin, and jerked her chin upwards.  
  
The glint in his eye made her realize that he was the one who put up that trap for her and Severus…Dumbledore did say something about it being advanced Dark Magic… "That was you?" she said, having trouble making out the words because of his grip on her chin.  
  
He shrugged, still smiling in an evil sort of way. "Worked quite nicely, didn't it? Did you enjoy it?" He was now breathing on her face, his breath smelling of peppermint and cinnamon. At least he had the decency to brush before he came, she noted. She sighed inwardly.  
  
"Enjoy what…?" said Emilia, knowing full well that her face was becoming a darker crimson than before. She was extremely aware that the Gryffindors were listening intently, straining to hear the words of Malfoy. What did he have to say…?  
  
He smiled wider. "Oh, I don't know," he said airily, "I can't imagine that he was all that bad…it's been awhile, for him. Could you tell?"  
  
Emilia's eyes were wider than before. Her face felt very, very hot. How did he know…how did that bastard know? She hoped to God that none of them knew what he was talking about…  
  
"I…I don't know w-what you're talking about, Malfoy," she stuttered, willing him not to elaborate on it but trying to feint innocence.  
  
"Sure you do," he said simply. He touched noses with her, his blue eyes glaring at her with every evil inside of him. Malfoy leaned in further, and before she knew what was happening, she was being kissed. It was light, and she realized that he was mimicking Severus. He saw them. For some reason, she felt mortified, and even worse. She didn't know if they could see them, but she felt that everyone was watching.  
  
She turned her head away, and felt him lean back. "Was it just like that?" he murmured.  
  
Emilia looked at him, careful not to turn her face toward him. "You bastard," she said without thinking. Without a single thought, she lifted her legs and slammed the heel of her foot into the men's feet, causing them to let go of her. She jerked her arms away, and pulled them forward, sending her elbows up into their faces, smashing their noses and mouths. Emilia used the momentum from their faces to shove the heels of her hands into Malfoy's face, and lifted her knee, placing a very accurate hit in his groin area.  
  
Emilia backed up quickly, and pulled out her wand at the same time Malfoy did, ending up in a deadlock, each of them pointing their wands at their faces.  
  
"You bitch," he said, holding his hand up to cover his now bleeding nose. The men on the floor stood up, but she didn't noticed. "That was your stupid trick of the day."  
  
"What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped, her hand poised on her wand between his eyes.  
  
"Potter," he said sharply. "I want to bring him to my Lord. I want to kill the Weasley children, right in front of that Muggle-lover Arthur Weasley and his chubby wife. I want to rid the world of the Gryffindors. What did you think I wanted?" His eyes were flashing.  
  
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I couldn't imagine, you dickless asshole," Emilia snapped.  
  
"However, for your stunt, one of the students gets to die," he said. The bleeding finally stopped, and he wiped it away with his robe. He pointed to the closest student, a Gryffindor fifth year by the name of Parvati Patil.  
  
Emilia whipped her head around and then back again. "No!" she cried. "Don't do anything to them. Don't," her hand shook a little here, "Malfoy, don't."  
  
"You aren't in any position to tell me what the fuck to do and not to," he sneered.  
  
Emilia thought quickly. "Leave them alone and do what you need to do to me," she said. "Leave them be."  
  
"Miss Black, however brave your actions are, I want you to see the full effect of your every action, your every word," he breathed in. "It would do no good to take it out on you. You wouldn't learn."  
  
Emilia stepped in front of him. "Malfoy, you are above killing children," she said quietly, dropping her wand. "They didn't do anything."  
  
"Are you…is that begging?" he said incredulously. "I would have never thought…" He raised a hand to his chin in thought. "Hmm…well, the mission did not include what I wanted to do, however, what does interest me is the amount of importance Severus places on you…"  
  
Emilia breathed in, the pain sharp to her lungs.  
  
"…you do realized Potter is going to die, and so are the Weasley children, but I think what I'm most interested in is you…curious, I would have never thought a Black could ever love a Snape…"  
  
Emilia was very aware that the entire house of Gryffindor heard him. "I don't love him," she snapped, glaring. "I have no feelings for him, whatsoever."  
  
"That is not what I saw tonight," he said in low voice. "However, I think that I should take Potter and you for a little walk. The Lord would love to meet you two."  
  
Emilia coughed. "No! Leave them be. Malfoy…"  
  
"I don't think I need to repeat myself twice, Emilia," said Malfoy. Emilia felt herself get very angry.  
  
Raising her wand above her head, she took a couple of steps back and pointed the wand at him.  
  
"God damn it, Emilia," he sighed. "Won't you ever learn?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes.  
  
He pointed at Patil. "Avada Kedavara!" A green light flew out of his wand, and sucked the life away from the young girl. She fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of black robes and black hair.  
  
Parvati Patil was dead. 


	13. For The Longest Time

1.1.1 Chapter Thirteen: For The Longest Time  
  
The entire room erupted in screams. Emilia clutched her hands to her face, and gasped audibly. She started to run over to her but Malfoy's quick reflexes grabbed her wrist and twisted it back, causing her to wince in pain.  
  
"No," he said, jerking her arm. "Now you know I'm not kidding." He twisted it back, and Emilia writhed in pain, trying to turn with her arm, so that it wasn't turning inside out. "I'll take this," said Malfoy, grabbing her wand from the hand being twisted. "Don't try anything else stupid, or someone else will die. Do you understand?"  
  
Emilia whipped her head around and gave him a cold stare. She did not answer. She was beyond pissed. She was absolutely furious. If she didn't keep herself in check, Malfoy would probably be dead.  
  
She yanked her arm away, and massaged it from the pain. She looked down at it, after rolling up the gold sleeve. It was already turning red, and the outside was becoming purple.  
  
"All of you, hear this," Malfoy said loudly. "I don't expect any of you will live after tonight; and if your Professor here keeps up her tongue," he paused, and smiled at her in a cynical way, to which Emilia replied with a disgusted look, "more of you will die quicker. It is in your very best interest to keep your traps shut." The way he spoke, Emilia noticed, was like Malfoys do: in a dominating, no-nonsense way. He was dead serious.  
  
Emilia rolled her eyes, and continued to rub her arm. He was so damn melodramatic at times. In fact, thinking about melodrama made her want to cry…. Melodrama made her think of Severus, and the others. How were the others faring? Did they make it to safety? Are there anymore dead? Those questions popping up put a permanent feeling of despair in her stomach.  
  
Most of the Gryffindors were sitting in small clumps, the first years surrounded by the seventh, all looking out for each other. Lavender Brown, who was Patil's best friend, was huddled near her body, silent sobs racking her little body as she lay on top of her friend. Emilia looked over and felt her heart pull a few strings. She was sorry that she ever tried to escape from here. She was the cause of that death. If she'd just kept her tongue…Parvati Patil would be alive.  
  
She was a pretty girl, and an aspiring Divination student. How could she have been so careless to let one of her students die? Reasoning pardoned in with the fact that more will die all over the castle before the night's end, however this death was quite personal. It made her feel like she could do nothing right. She caused the death of one of the students she was looking out for.  
  
Emilia resolved right then and there that she would do whatever it took to get them all out of here alive. She would do absolutely everything in her power to be a peacemaker, not a fighter. She would go against all she knew to save them.  
  
She just hoped that they saw it that way. She hoped that they wouldn't blame her fully. Emilia was trying to save them. She just wasn't going about it in the right way, she realized. All of them looked frightfully scared, and every single on of them had a look on their face that was plain misery and sorrow.  
  
Malfoy turned around and walked back to the front of the room. Emilia saw him twirling her wand in his fingers, and for the first time that night, she felt like she'd run out of ideas. She had no idea what to do, how to get them all to safety. How to keep them alive, even. The six other Death Eaters were now completely surrounding the other students, all of them situated around the huddled groups quietly and they were standing very still.  
  
Emilia glanced around nervously. She rolled down the sleeve and crossed her arms, hunching over to hope to give her warmth. Emilia made a move to sit down and immediately Malfoy had grabbed her under the arm and jerked her back up. "No, Miss Black," he said, reverting back to his formalities. "You shall stand."  
  
Malfoy looked around, watching the groups. Emilia realized he was picking out people, like who was going to die next. He glanced at his watch, still holding onto Emilia. "It's time," said Malfoy, still looking down at his watch. His head jerked up, and he signaled to his other comrades. "I want those prepubescent red heads over there," he pointed to the other door, "and you and Potter are coming with me."  
  
Emilia ripped her hand from his grip. "Where are we going?" she said, stepping back. She was trying to keep her voice as level as she could have it, but she did not want to meet "Lord Voldemort" in any circumstances...not again.  
  
One of the hooded people walked into the small crowd and grabbed Potter by the arms and shoved him to where Emilia and Malfoy stood, causing him to fall to the floor in a heap. He looked up and gave Malfoy a look of extreme loathing—to put it simply, the one she usually wore. Potter stood up and brushed off his robes, and then moved over to where Emilia stood. At least, he wasn't all that angry with her about that whole trying-to- escape-and-backfiring thing. Emilia moved further back from Malfoy. After his little trick earlier, she couldn't trust him any further than she could throw him.  
  
While Emilia was noticing this, Malfoy was noticing Potter's moves. If the look that Potter shot at Malfoy was bad, the look that he gave Potter back was similar if not worse.  
  
"You think that teacher will offer any protection?" he sneered at Potter, and glared at Emilia, like she did something equally as wrong. "The protection she offered you students has resulted in death. Try to see that that way." Malfoy turned around to walk, and whipped his head around, like he forgot something. He bent his head down, and his pale blonde hair fell into his face. "I almost forgot," he said in a whisper, "please, Potter, give me your wand. We don't want any tricks from you on the way to your death." He snickered, and tilted his head up a little, looking at Potter. Malfoy moved his and out and held it for Potter to put his wand in.  
  
Potter stood absolutely still. "You think I've got my wand?" he said, incredulously. "Do you know what time it is? Do you think I had any time to get my wand before coming down here?" Potter looked at him in such a way that it was pure rebellion. Emilia winced as she saw Malfoy wind up, his eyes narrowing.  
  
Malfoy looked up, his eyes completely one shade of icy blue. "Are you sassing me, boy?" he asked maliciously. He made a grab for Potter's robes, to physically assault him, but Emilia moved in front of his attempt and instead he ended up grabbing Emilia. "What the hell are you doing?" he said, both of his hands gripped to the golden fabric.  
  
Emilia looked up placidly. Potter will not be harmed if she had anything to do about it. "He said he doesn't have his wand," she said calmly. "And he wasn't sassing you."  
  
Malfoy brought her forward quickly and shoved her back into Potter, who caught her around the waist before she fell. "You're lucky your father made me promise not to hurt you," he breathed in, scowling.  
  
Emilia looked up at him, and stood up straight, brushing off her robes. "Well, then I'll have to thank Daddy," she said loftily. She glanced at him. "Didn't you have to be somewhere?" she said quickly, almost as if his incompetence was pissing her off.  
  
Malfoy made a face at her and turned around. Emilia walked after him and felt something poke into her back. Emilia looked to her said, and saw Potter smiling, twirling his wand between his fingers. She got the idea, and while continuing to watch Malfoy's exiting body, took the wand and slipped it inside her robe sleeve. He knew that she didn't have a wand; he wouldn't look for her to get the wand.  
  
Malfoy was waiting for them to step out, and then grabbed Emilia's arm. "You're taking far too much time," he said. "The Master doesn't like to wait."  
  
"I'm sure," Potter muttered under his breath. Emilia had to bite her tongue to keep from snickering. He jerked her arm roughly noticing her reaction and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Potter.  
  
"Such a pity the Imperius Curse doesn't work on you," he said with a sigh. "However, I doubt even you can resist the charm of the Killing Curse."  
  
"And I doubt even you can perform it on me. I doubt your 'Master' would be pleased you killed me," Potter replied pompously, crossing his arms across his chest in a brat-like manner. Emilia was bewildered by Potter's actions. Was he trying to piss Malfoy off? Or was he that sure they would make it? Even she wasn't sure they would make it.  
  
"Don't be too sure of that, Potter," said Malfoy angrily. She felt his nails dig into her skin, and she winced noticeably. Potter gave her a quizzical look, and realized what was happening to her. He touched her other arm gently and continued walking silently. Malfoy assumed he'd won, and nodded arrogantly before dragging Emilia forward with harshness.  
  
"Will you stop that?" she said with a tone of anger in her voice. "That hurts." She yanked her arm out of his reach, rubbing her forearm protectively.  
  
"It's supposed to," Malfoy said, with a bit of unpleasantness in his voice.  
  
Emilia felt the wand in her other arm. The weight of the wand lay against her arm, like the weight of a terrible decision. It was a decision to make. It was the choice to get out of here. Hogwarts, the last of the safe places, had been invaded right under Dumbledore's nose. How could that have happened? How many more of them would she and Potter come across as they made their way back to the Great Hall? And where was everyone else?  
  
All these unanswered questions were making her very uneasy. She didn't know what to do. She felt helpless and alone, and for the first time in her life, she felt that all her choices, everything she decided to do, was wrong. She'd been the sole responsibility of those students, and one of those students died.  
  
What was she going to do now? She really had no idea where to start—the more time she took, the closer she and Potter were going to be to the source of the problem: Lord Voldemort.  
  
This night was going to weigh heavily on her heart. 


	14. Surrender Is Not An Option

Chapter Fourteen: Surrender Is Not an Option

Now that Malfoy wasn't dragging about Emilia, she felt a little bit better: at least he didn't suspect she had anything up her sleeve—literally. She was afraid with him jerking her about like that would cause the wand to fall or be discovered. Then, they would be in serious trouble.

As they continued down the corridors, Emilia recognized the route at once: it was down to the dungeons. Down to the Slytherin Common Room, where Lord Voldemort's allies were abundant. The walls surrounding her became narrower and slimier by the minute. Emilia knew if she didn't something now, something drastic, she and Potter would probably end up worse than dead.

After hearing about Potter's amazing tale of escape from Voldemort last summer at the TriWizard Tournament, he knew what they were dealing with. After he realized his retaliation was causing more pain than good, he'd stopped talking all together and had a determined look on his face. Emilia couldn't help admiring him for that. However, she also had to realize that this was inevitable, and she only hoped that her lessons of defense were enough for them to survive.

Finally, the walls were narrow enough for only one person to walk through. Emilia didn't recognize this part of the castle, which would explain why perhaps the Death Eaters were able to get in undiscovered. Malfoy went ahead of them, leading the way, then it was Emilia, and then Potter himself. Emilia wondered briefly what her options were to escape.

She fingered the wand inside of her sleeve. He wouldn't expect an attack now, would he? She could just—slip—the wand out and simply put a body bind on him before he could react. Then Emilia could take him to someplace, like a closed classroom, and get her and Potter to safety. It would be so simple.

However, Emilia was more than afraid to do this. Lord Voldemort was running unchecked around the castle, and Malfoy had powers that any moral wizard never used—and he wasn't afraid to use it.

Emilia ran her fingers down the length of the wand, and clutched it in her hand. Potter needed to get out of this, and now; any further, and she was practically guaranteeing his death.

She jerked her hand ever so slightly, the wand moving out quickly, and she simply grasped it in her palm. Emilia barely raised it when she simply whispered, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Immediately, Malfoy seized up and kind of wobbled on the spot, swaying from side to side. Then, finally, he fell forward, landing face down on the floor. Emilia smiled, and bent down near him. "Ha, ha," she said quietly. "The joke's on you. How _dare_ you think you can get away with taking me to Voldemort? How _dare_ you think you have the upper hand, walking around smartly like a pompous tomcat? How _dare_ you underestimate me, you good-for-nothing Death Eater?" She turned him over most roughly, and searched his robes, extracting her and his wand. She grinned at his wide-eyed expression. "You are such a fool," she said softly, poking his cheek.

Potter looked at her with an odd expression. She looked up at him, and threw back him his wand. "There you are, most useful, thanks," she murmured, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Emilia stood, brushing off her legs and her arms. Her left arm ached with growing bruises, but she ignored the pain. "We can't leave the trash here, so we've got to move him. He doesn't add much to the scenery."

Potter grinned, and helped her move him to one of the empty dungeon classrooms, which she recognized instantly as the Potions classroom. They set him up on a desk, and walked out, laughing quietly. She locked the door, knowing the he didn't have a wand and that the Unlocking Spell wouldn't be much help to him from the inside, she thought gleefully.

Emilia wished she had some sort of knowledge that would enable for her to see the entire castle and see where everyone was. She needed to know if the Slytherin Room was invaded, and she needed to find Dumbledore, Minerva, and most of all, Severus.

This would probably be the time where his true colors will be shown. He and Potter were probably the most in danger. Severus, being a Death Eater—knowledge from her father—and her assumption he was a double agent, were now on the line. She felt her stomach sink a little. The small victory over Malfoy was very little compared to the scheme of things.

"Professor, what are we going to do now?" he said, grasping his wand tightly. He seemed much more confident with the wand in his hands, now that they both weren't as vulnerable.

She put her hand on her chin thoughtfully, and the light from the fire sticks flickered on the dark dungeon walls with each of their passing shadows. "I suppose we ought to find Dumbledore and rescue your fellow Gryffindors; getting them to safety is my top priority, as you all are in my custody. However, there are some other matters I need to attend to…" Like Severus and Voldemort, she thought frantically.

Potter reached in his robes and extracted a very old sheet of parchment. "Professor, I think we can use this," he said. He unfolded it, and touched his wand on it in his hand. Murmuring quietly, he said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Emilia watched in wonder as the paper started to grow little black dots and lines, and green writing wrote itself across the top of the page. He grinned, and showed her the paper. "As long as you promise not to turn me in for it," Potter said quickly.

"I ought to give you points for having it on you," she replied, taking it and absorbing the information. She glanced about the sheet, her eyes darting back and forth. The Hufflepuffs were still in their dormitory, yet Dumbledore wasn't anywhere in the room as she'd hoped; Sprout was in there, near the entrance. She guessed quickly they were locked in, probably one of Voldemort's precautions; a small dot that labeled "Crabbe" was just outside the door. The Ravenclaws were also blocked in, their head of House standing near the entranceway. However, their "guard" was labeled a name she had not heard of in a long time, "Macnair". Emilia, glancing at the large scheme of the entire page, saw that there were Death Eaters all around, posted at various places; specifically, those where the other students were. Malfoy was right next to them, and their dots were labeled with a blinking sort of red. Down the hall, Emilia saw in horror that Voldemort and Pettigrew—she knew him in her own time—were there, along with about six other death Eaters alone. Hogwarts was officially invaded.

Where was Dumbledore, Severus or even Minerva? She glanced about and saw that they were hard to place. She remembered seeing at least one of the professors manage to look around…and with a sinking feeling, she realized that that may not have been a teacher, but a Death Eater looking over one of the them.

They were surrounded, and Emilia knew that standing here was not going to help at all. At least Severus was not one of the people in Voldemort's hideout. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking up from the ever-so informative map, she saw Potter's face a bit of a ghost like color, looking down the hall. "What is it, Potter?" she said sharply, looking in the direction of his gaze.

"I thought I saw someone," he said tersely. She checked the map, and saw a small dot advancing toward their spot. She hadn't even noticed it until just then. The dot read "Severus Snape".

Emilia smiled in spite of herself. "It's just Professor Snape, Potter," she said, looking up and waiting for him to round the corner.

Potter looked at her with wide-eyes. "Snape?" he said. "We've got to get out of here—he's one of them!"

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. Sure, she knew he was a Death Eater, but she didn't think a _professor_ of this school would be a problem…

…and then her mind drifted back to what Dumbledore had said earlier—"It must have been someone from the inside." It seemed like such a long time ago, the dance. It must have been one or two by now, and the darkest of the night was upon them.

Who was the inside source? Emilia had a very, very sick sense that it was that Malfoy boy—she had been very distrustful of the boy from the start, and not to mention his father—but beside that, it seemed he had a grudge on her all along. And they way they were captured…

"Professor Snape used to be a Death Eater, Professor," said Potter, glancing down the hall. The footsteps were getting louder.

"I know…" Emilia said, shifting uncomfortably on one foot. "He's on the good side, you know that, Potter." She continued to glance down the hall. The ever-so omnipotent footsteps stopped.

Emilia's feeling of panic filled he body. Potter looked determined, yet at the same time, she wasn't sure _who_ the perpetrator was, exactly. Glancing quickly, she saw an open door: an unused classroom.

"Potter," she said carefully.

"Harry," he interrupted, turning to her. "It's Harry."

She looked at him. "Okay, then. Look, I don't know what's going on, but I've got a poor feeling about this foul situation. So, I want you to slip inside that classroom while I talk to Professor Snape, and if it's okay, I'll pull you out. If it's not, then at least you'll be safe."

"But I don't want to be out of way if something happens…" he retorted. "Can't I just stand in the shadows?"

"Of the classroom," she added. "Go now, Harry." It sounded so odd to say that.

"Fine," he resigned, and turned to move. He slid into the dark corridor shadows and glanced out at her. She could barely see him where he stood. If she couldn't really see him, and she knew where he was, then there was a good chance that he would not see him there, either.

She turned and awaited Severus. He footsteps were closer; apparently during her instructions they resumed. A black cloak billowed out from behind a corner.

Emilia pulled out her wand and waited. "Severus?" she said out loud.

The person stopped. "Emilia?" he said incredulously. "I just was at the Great Hall expecting to find you there, and when I didn't I…" He glanced around. "Why are you down here?"

"Malfoy," she said. "Malfoy's here. So is the lot of them, Severus. Why are they here? How did they get in?" she burst out.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I have a pretty good idea…" He glanced around nervously.

Something stuck Emilia, as this situation was very, very odd. Why was Severus looking for her, and wouldn't he have found all those people there held hostage? Where were exactly his students?

"Severus, what's going on?" she said, backing up from him, holding out her wand.

Severus looked at her. There was something off, something not right. "You're not Severus," she said at last. "Not the Severus I know. He would be a bit more sarcastic at this point." She blushed. And not so easy-going after what happened a couple of hours ago…

"Finite Incantatem!" she said, pointed her wand at him. He ducked instinctively, and then fell to a crumpled heap onto the ground. Emilia looked at him for a moment, watching his near life-less body breathe. She was vaguely aware that Harry was breathing rather quickly from his hiding spot.

"What was the matter with him?" he said. Emilia looked at the paper, which he dubbed the 'Marauder's Map'.

"What is with this map?" she said, holding this up. "How does it work?"

She saw the glint of this glasses catch the fire of the lighted hallway as he looked up. "The dots, supposedly, are all the people in the school. It shows all the passages in and out of school, and…" he paused. "It shows who really is who; the Marauder's Map tells no lies. It's shows…all: invisibility cloaks, Polyjuice Potions—you aren't going to confiscate it, are you?"

"Heaven's no, this is what we need right now," she said absent-mindedly. "Potter—er, Harry, this is the best tool we've got against the Death Eaters right now. I'm pretty sure they don't know we've got this." She took a good look over it. "Your Potions professor, to answer your question, was under the Imperius Curse. I've seen…" Emilia took a second and readjusted her self, standing up straight and trailing off. She almost said, "I've seen my father do it countless times," but that didn't seem to fit the situation right now.

"Anyway, we've got to get going. They're not going to let Malfoy's and Severus's disappearance to go unnoticed before long." She looked up from the lifeless body. Potter had moved out of the dark and was standing next to her, pale as all hell and looking down at the Potions Master.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"I don't know, but I want to keep him with us. One more ally is better than none. I hope that his condition wore off, however. Please back up until I say different," she added, pointing to the corner of the hall. She bent down, next to him. Pointing her wand, she said "_Ennervate_!" Immediately, Severus sat up, holding his head like he had a headache of some sort.

"God _damn_ it," he swore softly, looking up. Emilia was looking at him in a weird sort of way, but she backed off once he had looked up. She stood up, and he followed suit.

"What happened?" he asked. Emilia had taken a step back. She appeared to be alone, and her wand was raised.

Emilia looked at him, trying to determine if perhaps the Imperius Curse had worn off. It was hard to tell when the orders were that of acting normal. She only hoped that what she did threw it off a little…it was primarily up to Severus to get rid of it otherwise.

"Emilia?" he said, still holding his head. "What are you doing here?" He stood up straight and brushed off his robes. "Actually, what am I doing here?"

Emilia cocked her head sideways. Curious… "Snape, do you know where you are?"

"Yes, I do," he said simply. "I'm in the corridor down to the Slytherin Common Room. The question is, what are _you_ doing down here?" He crossed his arms and gazed at her expectantly.

She bit back a smile. This was more like the Severus she knew. "I'm curious to know that myself. Do you remember anything since Dumbledore met us?"

"Yes…" he said defiantly. "Er…now that you mention it, nothing is too clear after that, though…" Severus looked rather tired.

Not only did he look tired, but also he looked rather vulnerable. That aging process had stopped over the last couple of hours, leaving him at the age of twenty-five and her in the age of twenty. She really wished that it would just finish up…she hated being so damn young! However, despite his age, he looked really worn out.

"This isn't good," she said quietly. "We can't stay down here, Severus. The castle is overrun with Death Eaters, and I've yet to find Dumbledore."

Severus went to say something, but then he stopped. Turning his head slightly, he stared right at the spot where she last saw Potter. "Step out of there, whoever you are," he said tersely.

Potter didn't move. "Harry, come out, I think he's all right," she said to him.

Harry stepped out of the darkness, ever slightly so, and walked over to where Emilia stood. He was glaring contemptuously at Severus. "Potter!" Severus snarled. "What are you doing down here?"

"We were being escorted to Voldemort," she said sharply. "Now, if you don't mind, I think we ought to move; Voldemort, ever so conveniently, is down that hall. Unless you want to stay, of course." Emilia bristled. The longer they stood here, the more likely they were to get caught.


	15. The Rise And Fall

Chapter Fifteen: The Rise and Fall

Emilia wish she could run. Or at the very least, become invisible. The odd group of three were now marching themselves up the corridors from the pits of the dungeons. Emilia knew that they'd find Malfoy. And then, she supposed, the next time they saw her, they'd probably kill her.

Her stomach churned from anxiety. She'd been up for what seemed forever, and the night was beginning to blossom to the next day. It was now about four o'clock, and Emilia was tired. Her adrenaline was wearing out, and even the merciless peril of what was going on wasn't keeping her awake. She wanted to get to the Great Hall; she wanted to find Dumbledore, and get all those Death Eaters out of sight.

Potter, she saw, was just as tired if not more than she was. Severus looked well rested, but distressed in the most terrible way. Without sleep, Emilia knew she wouldn't be ready for what was to come. But she could not let her guard down.

They'd finally reached the first floor, and using the map Potter so conveniently had ("I knew I'd seen that parchment had before!" Severus seethed at him) they managed to avoid some of the Death Eaters. Potter said something about getting to Gryffindor Tower, to get some very important things that ought to help them. So, the unusual trio made their way there.

"I hope Hermione's all right," Potter said suddenly, after they'd found McGonagall's secret route into the Common Room (which was fairly easy, as the Marauder's map showed that quite nicely).

"She's Muggle-born, isn't she?" Emilia said gently.

Harry turned his head away from her, and quickly went up the staircase. They heard him making a racket up there, searching for what they might need.

Severus looked at her, and then sat down near the extinguished fire. He put his head in his hands, and breathed in loudly. Emilia stood there, feeling really anxious, shifting from one foot to the other. Potter seemed to be taking a really long time.

"Stop doing that," Severus snapped, jerking his head up at her. "You're making me nervous."

"I'm sorry," she hissed. "I can't help it if I wasn't mentally asleep for the last four hours, while my body was running around performing its uses for Voldemort!" Emilia crossed arms.

Severus gave her a really nasty look before glancing up to see Potter had finally come down. He had a silver cloak and a broomstick, along with a small pocketknife and an expansible book.

"Bought it in Diagon Alley," he said, holding up the title piece of parchment. "Survival book of sorts." He paused, and flushed a little. "Thought it'd be useful."

"It will be," Emilia said. "I've wanted to get one of those." Severus' lips curled into a sneer, and Emilia flashed a look of anger at him, daring him to say something. She turned back to Potter.

"This all will be useful, thank you," she said. "The cloak especially." Dumbledore mentioned something to her about that Invisibility Cloak of his. Thought it would be useful information should anything happen.

"Where are we going to go?" Harry asked tentatively. He glanced from one Professor to the other. Emilia looked unsure, and felt even more, to say the least. She'd run out of ideas. She knew she needed to rescue Dumbledore, and alert the Ministry. But, chances are, they've probably gotten rid of any lines out of Hogwarts. At least, that's what she would have done.

Emilia bit her lip. Severus looked as deep in thought as she; Emilia could only guess that the both of them were trying to come up with something and quick. Any wrong moves and the lot of them would be dead.

"Let me see that map, Potter," said Severus suddenly, holding out his hand. Harry looked uneasy. She could sense that he simply didn't trust Snape.

"Harry," Emilia said kindly, "I think what we're going to do next is save Dumbledore. He would be our greatest asset to find."

"That's if he's still in the castle," Severus added. "He may have gone to alert the Ministry."

"But what about us?" Emilia said exasperatedly. "I doubt he'd leave us here!"

"We're competent adults," Severus snapped in reply.

"You might be accept by that lot," Emilia said angrily, "but unfortunately, as soon as they locate Malfoy, the chances of them not killing me on sight are slim. Not to be the bearer of bad news, but just to let you know there aren't a whole lot of teachers to be helping us. Or did you forget, Severus, that this is Christmas Holiday? They are all gone."

Severus furrowed his brow in thought. "Fine," he snarled. "Fine. Search and locate Dumbledore. If he's not there, then he's gone. We need to get moving, though. I only know bits and pieces of their plan."

Emilia gave him a patronizing look. "Harry, search for Dumbledore. Severus and I need to have a small talk before we get going. Let us know immediately when you find him."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, nodding. He pulled out the map and set to work quickly.

Emilia looked up at Severus. "Over here," she said, walking to the corner furthest away from Harry. "We can have some privacy over here."

Leaning against the wall, Emilia crossed her arms. "We need to stop this."

"What?"

"This...arguing. It's gotten us into more trouble than we need. Our jobs have been threatened, and now our lives are being compromised. We need to establish a truce. You've got to stop arguing with everything I say!"

"I argue with everything you say?" Severus replied angrily. "You do a good portion of the arguing yourself."

"Fine," Emilia snapped. "I argue too. But this has to stop. It's gone too far. We're going to get ourselves into trouble if we can't control ourselves."

"I agree," he said slowly. Holding out his hand, he asked tentatively, "Friends?"

Emilia shook it. "For now," she added. "Afterwards, you can go back to acting like an ass."

Severus chose to ignore that. He looked really sad, Emilia thought. Her mind drifted to what happened earlier. Of course he was going to be sad. He was rejected. Emilia didn't know what to think of that whole mess. When they are safe, then maybe she could think about how she really felt about Severus. Until then, she was going to forget about that, and focus on what was really important now: saving themselves.

Severus walked back to Potter, and sat down across the fireplace, where he was sitting earlier. Harry looked up, and glanced between those two. Emilia could tell he was dying to know what they had said. He didn't say anything, though.

"Harry," Emilia said, standing between the two of them, as they were sitting across from each other, "and you two Severus,"—he looked up—"I want the two of you to work together. No threats or any dirty looks—I'm not going to lie, we're probably going to be running from death all night, and I'm not sure we're going to survive. But we'd have a better chance if everyone got along. So, right now, all of us are going to agree that yes, we disagree, but for right now we're going to get along. And may that not kill us."

Harry smiled weakly. Looking at Severus, his smile dropped, but he understood about working together. "Shake hands," Emilia instructed. Harry got up, slowly, and then Severus followed reluctantly. Both shook their hands, and let go extremely quickly.

"Good, I'm glad," she said whole-heartedly. "I'm going to go and wash the grime from the dungeons off of me, I won't be but five minutes. Keep looking, Harry, for Dumbledore."

"Yes, ma'am." He sat down and continued looking. Severus took a step back, to let her pass, but instead of sitting back down he went to the window and looked outside.

Emilia sighed, and took a right into the bathroom. She was still in her dress robes and that made her a target, especially in the light. She needed something darker. Something black. She glanced around the room, but didn't see anything. She didn't want to ruin her beautiful dress robes, but she couldn't afford to be wearing something that resembled a lantern. Deciding to at least clean up, she splashed her face with cool water, and looked back up in the mirror.

She was still only twenty. She was silly to think that she'd be back to her old age. After all, that was wishful thinking! Sighing inwardly, she dried off her face and searched one more time for a black robe. And, once again, finding none, she walked out of the bathroom.

Both of them looked up at her expectantly. She smiled weakly. "Um...I was thinking," she said slowly to them, "I probably ought to have a black robe, so that I don't stick out like a sore thumb." Emilia paused.

"What did you want to do about it?" Severus said airily, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair.

"Did you know of anyone...here...that might let me use one of their robes?" she asked Harry. "I would understand if you don't think this would be appropriate, but unfortunately, saving their lives would, I think, constitute a little leeway. Right?"

Harry nodded, and stood. She was but half a head taller than he was. "I let you borrow one of my own," he said. "It may be small, but I think it would work?"

"Yes, please," Emilia said, wringing her hands. Harry gave her the map and he ran up the stairs quickly. She looked down at the map, and glanced over it all. Severus appeared at her side, and looked over her shoulder at the map. His head fit right over her shoulder, and the closeness of him made her blush a little.

"Severus," she croaked, trying to stand still, "when I said that we should be friends, I didn't mean..."

Severus took a step back, and Emilia turned around. "Is that what you thought?" Severus said angrily.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you're that close to me?" Emilia said back, just as pissed.

"What does that mean?" he replied quietly. He looked at her, almost expectantly.

Emilia's face flushed a little deeper. "I...I just—"

"Professor?" Harry said, walking down the stairs. Emilia whipped her head around, and saw a black robe in his hands.

"Here's my biggest black robe. I hope it's okay...are you all right?" He said, looking from her to Snape.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said, walking up and taking the robe. "Thank you so much for this. I'll be back in a minute." She went into the bathroom and quickly changed. She was lucky that she'd put her under gown underneath her dress robe. It was already uncomfortable in Harry's robes (which were a bit loose on her and too short on the legs). Imagine, though, her walking around in them in her birthday suit! She didn't even want to think about it.

Emerging from the bathroom in record time, Emilia walked out into the Common Room with her robe in her arms. "I think I'm just going to...leave it here," she said, placing it in the corner. "I don't want this to make it easier for the enemies to track us."

"Exactly," Harry said suddenly. Emilia looked up with a peculiar expression. What did he mean? Oh well.

"Let's go," Severus said quickly. "I just found Dumbledore."

"Really?" Emilia said, snatching the map out of his hands. "Where?"

"Right there," he said, pointing to the smallest dot inside the Slytherin Common Room. "You must have missed it, they keep moving in and out of his dot. It took me a few minutes to make sure it was him."

"Good, he's still here," Emilia breathed in, placing a hand on her heart. It was beating so rapidly. Emilia would never admit, but she was afraid. She knew that the chances of living were slim to nil, not to mention that she had Severus, who had been tricked with the Imperius Curse once, and Potter, who was a moving target just by breathing. All of them, including her, were in the most danger. And, setting out through the passageway from which they came, they were the only ones to save them all.


	16. Searching For Dumbledore

Chapter Sixteen: Searching for Dumbledore

The three of them were tight against the wall as two of the Death Eaters walked by. Emilia had to hold her breath to control the rapid breaths she was taking underneath the Invisibility Cloak. Severus' hand came up to her mouth to stop her from exhaling to loudly, and Harry, who was on the other side of her, was trembling slightly. They paused while Harry consulted the map, and told them to take the next left.

They were going to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room by way that Severus could enter; Severus told them that he was pretty much the only one to know about it, and like Minerva's secret passage, it bypassed the pictures that would not budge. It also was the only route that did not hold Death Eaters. Severus, who knew the way there well, was more than willing to voice his complaints on the whole situation. However, once Emilia reminded him that Potter could divert them away from Death Eaters, Severus reluctantly agreed to follow the rest of them.

And that leads them to where they walked now, slowly, because they had to make sure each of them was covered in the fairly large cloak. Severus, Emilia could tell, was biting his lip. She knew he was dying to mutter little blithering comments about this entire ordeal. Emilia, on the other hand, was trying to keep herself from trembling from fear.

Severus paused for a moment, in the middle of the hall. They'd made their left, right, left, and Harry gave them no indication they were there, at the passageway. What was Snape playing at?

"Severus?" Emilia whispered tersely. They needed to keep moving…she could hear voices of Death Eaters around the corner and out of the side of her eye, she could see the black dots getting closer…

"Severus?" she repeated.

He was examining the wall. Counting, she heard, as one, two, three was heard in a voice no higher than a whisper. What was he doing?

"Ah ha," he said triumphantly. "_Alohomora_!" The wall slid open quietly, and Emilia and Potter were dragged into the passage before it closed. Just on the other side of the wall, Emilia heard the Death Eaters pass by.

"That was close," Emilia breathed in. "Too close." Suddenly, she realized how they were situated in the small passage. She was hugging Severus while Harry was down the corridor a bit, lying on the ground, partially shown because of his cloak. It was eerie to see a leg then…nothing.

However, it was even more so eerie to be clutching Severus so tight. Immediately, she backed off and brushed off her robes, blushing. She thanked the good God it was dim in the room.

"Okay," she said at last, whispering. "What now?"

"_Lumos!_" Severus said, illuminating the passage. "We…look at the map," he said slowly. Harry had already stood up and was brushing dirt off his cloak.

"Dumbledore is at the other end of the tunnel," Harry said. "If we…can sneak in…then we'd be able to conceal Dumbledore and get him out quickly. There's another passage," Harry said, pointing, "at the other end. Really, it's a passage in a passage. That will take us…" he trailed off, checking his map again in Severus's wand light, "to Hufflepuff dormitories."

"Good," Emilia said happily. "Now we must try to pull out the last card from the bottom of the deck of the house of cards. I only hope we can get Dumbledore out quickly."

Severus didn't say anything. He was studying the map, and Emilia assumed he was concentrating on the quickest way to get Dumbledore out. Emilia put a hand on her chin thoughtfully, as the three of them looked at the paper, and finally Emilia voiced something she was worried about for a while.

"Who's going to go in to get him? Harry, you're out of the question…" Emilia said. "But…is it either you or…me."

"I think I should go," said Severus decisively. "I know my way around them best, and I would know how to get myself out of a situation should anything arise."

Emilia wrung her hands. "I think I should go," she replied. "I would be best because…well…they can't kill me. They won't."

"Don't be too sure of that, Emilia," he answered. "They will kill anyone that attempts to take their hostage."

Emilia felt her hands start to shake. "No, really, I think I should go. It would be…better…for me to do this."

"Just so you know," Harry interrupted, "there are only three Death Eaters and Voldemort in there."

"Then it's decided," Emilia said. "I'm going."

"No…wait…"

"Shut up, Severus. I'm going, and that's that," she said firmly. Turning to Harry, she said, "Stay here. Stay right here. I will sneak in, conceal Dumbledore, and get out. The entrance is behind a plant, right? Hidden from view, so if something happens, I'm okay?"

"Yes," Severus said. "But, I still don't agree with this."

Emilia sighed. "I'll be fine. I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, aren't I?" Taking the cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders, she smiled. "I'll be back, don't worry!"

Severus still didn't look satisfied. "Wait a second," he said quickly. "I want to talk to you…alone," he added pointedly. Harry took the hint and walked down to the other end of the tunnel. Finally, he turned to Emilia.

"I hate you doing this. You're not fine. You're shaking. You've been sick, and we've both been through hell these past couple days. I don't agree with this at all."

Emilia looked down, away from him. "I know I'm doing something extremely dangerous but…I've been up against Voldemort before. I survived," barely, she thought, "and really, I feel I ought to. If you didn't know…earlier, this evening, Malfoy had surrounded the Gryffindors in the Great Hall. They killed one of the Gryffindors—Parvati Patil—because of me. This is my…guilt…and my revenge. So, please, let me do this."

He grabbed her shoulder and shook her gently. "You're so stupid," he said angrily. "You're going to get yourself killed. You don't know what you're doing. You don't know what they do. If you get caught, you won't live. They'll…do what they do to the Muggle women that get caught. They'll…"

She placed a hand on his. "Severus, your worry is concerning me," she said awkwardly. "This is a weakness. Malfoy…" she paused, remembering what Malfoy had done to her…

__

He smiled wider. "Oh, I don't know," he said airily, "I can't imagine that he was all that bad…it's been awhile, for him. Could you tell?"

Emilia's eyes were wider than before. Her face felt very, very hot. How did he know…how did that bastard know? She hoped to God that none of them knew what he was talking about…

"I…I don't know w-what you're talking about, Malfoy," she stuttered, willing him not to elaborate on it but trying to feint innocence.

"Sure you do," he said simply. He touched noses with her, his blue eyes glaring at her with every evil inside of him. Malfoy leaned in further, and before she knew what was happening, she was being kissed. It was light, and she realized that he was mimicking Severus. He saw them.

"No. That's enough, Severus," she said coldly, taking his hands off her shoulders. "They will kill you. And that's explanation enough."

She took a step back. She couldn't think, her mind…it wouldn't breathe. "I'm going. If I'm not back soon, then, you were right and I was wrong." She covered her head and walked silently down the passage to the light.

Peering out of the side of the plant, Emilia saw Dumbledore sitting in a chair, his hands bound to straps. He was very complacent, but she could tell he was very, very angry. Emilia assumed that he must not have his wand, because in that anger there was a sense of vulnerability.

She surveyed the room, trying to make the best of the situation. Since she'd graduated, the room hadn't really changed much. The green and stone motif was very much still there, with the fire flickering off the walls and the trinkets that decorated the common room. Voldemort was right in the middle of the room; sitting on a straight back chair and petting something that looked very much like a snake. There was a man next to him, listening to every hiss that Voldemort made. Emilia could tell that it was that traitor Peter Pettigrew. Her father always warned her about him. On the other side of the room, near the entrance, there stood another Death Eater. Dumbledore was nearest her, being watched not carefully at all by the last of the three Death Eaters.

The guard near Dumbledore was summoned over to Voldemort. It seemed they were in deep conversation; none of them looked up at all to anywhere else. The snake was hissing at the lot; Emilia could hear the words the snake was saying…

_"I'm hungry…I've not eaten in sssssso long…"_

Emilia gulped. Snakes had poor eyesight but very a very good sense of smell. Would she be detected? Emilia took a deep breath to stop her shaking and moved slowly out from behind the plant. The cloak felt so heavy on her, and she was so paranoid that she was about to go insane…

They must see me, they must hear me, she thought quickly. She moved over to Dumbledore, who was the closest, and touched his hand gently. He jumped a little and Emilia feared they would notice—but, alas, they were completely complacent.

Lifting the cloak from over her head and onto him, Emilia saw Dumbledore's surprised expression, as he became invisible. Holding her finger to her mouth, to indicate that he shouldn't make any noise at all, she helped him to stand and they stealthily made their way back to the plant.

The Death Eaters never looked up at all. Emilia felt even sicker. If they got caught, it all would be over…

…But like that, she was in the hall and moving away. She was so glad that Severus knew about this. She remembered what he'd said earlier, about the passage. He said it was a wall that wished to be a door; so in turn, the wall was always an open door. You just passed through the door casually, but it appeared like you were going through a wall. It was so clever and ingenious.

They moved away quickly and saw Severus' wand light in the passage ahead. Emilia took off the stuffy Invisibility Cloak and breathed out loudly. "I hope you're okay, sir," she said, pulling out her wand. Using a Severing Charm, she shredded the straps that were supposed to be binding Dumbledore. "I'm guessing that—you don't have your wand?"

"No, I don't," he replied kindly. "However, I don't require a wand."

"Are you two all right?" Emilia said, walking into the wand light. Severus looked up, and saw both of them standing there, Emilia with her face flushed with pressure and Dumbledore looking well relieved. Suddenly, they heard loud voices.

"WHERE IS HE?" the voice echoed down the hall. "I DON'T WANT ANY EXCUSES!"

"Looks like they've found out," Emilia said tersely. "We really ought to get moving."

Severus looked at Harry, who nodded. The Death Eaters, Emilia knew, did not have a map like Harry's at all in the castle. Severus would have known, and since he said that they were very lucky to have found Dumbledore and captured him so early, Emilia figured that they were just as clueless about the whereabouts of everyone else.

"Here," Harry said. "_Alohomora!_" The door sprung open, and there showed a long, twisting corridor.

"Let's go," Severus said tensely, and Harry started off at a run, followed by Dumbledore, who, even though was countless years old, was very fast. Severus pushed Emilia through and then he took up the back. Emilia ran with all her might, and the voices and screams started to get fainter and fainter as they made their way up the castle wall and to the Hufflepuff dormitories.

Dumbledore and Harry were so far ahead, that Emilia had trouble keeping up with them. They had gotten a head start, and even though Emilia was fit, she'd been without sleep and suddenly, everything for her began to slow down. Severus kept her going until they came to a fork in the tunnel.

"Oh _shit_," Emilia said, stopping. "Which way is it?"

"I have no idea," Severus said, walking up next to her. "If you weren't so damn _slow_, we'd still be caught up with them."

"I'm tired," she replied angrily. "Unlike you, I've yet to have any sleep! I've been up for nearly twenty four hours, and the day…well, I've been through a lot. So leave me alone."

Severus sighed loudly and walked to one side, then the other. "I don't have any clue. There aren't any signs of where to go. No nicks, no marks, in the walls," he said, running his hand against the wall. He walked across the hall, and did the same once more. "Only god damn smooth stone!"

"I would suggest splitting up," she said, leaning against the wall Severus was examining and cross her arms, "but that would be even more stupid than getting lost together in one of these tunnels. Too bad Potter's got the Invisibility Cloak…" Emilia said wistfully. "We could have gone back and walked to Hufflepuff dormitories and got rid of the one inept guard."

Severus didn't say anything. He just let his hand slip off the wall and stared quietly at the wall. It looked like he was doing some quick thinking.

"Why don't we just pick one?" Emilia suggested. "I mean, if we go to a dead end, then we can just back track and pick the right one. It would take time, but it's not like we can go back to the Slytherin Common Room. I mean, not with those Death Eaters there, and everything. And they must know you no longer are under the Imperius Curse. Besides," she added quietly, "they know you are no longer on their side." Malfoy's actions made certain of that.

A couple more moments of silence went by before Emilia got a little angry. "Jesus Christ, Severus, pick a tunnel already! We haven't got all day you know. Personally, both tunnels look the same, so either one works for me." She sat there looking at him, and he did not move. "This isn't a useful waste of time, this _is_ a waste of time. Let's get going!"

Severus looked up at her, wearing a peculiar expression. It was a cross between concentration, frustration and irritability. Emilia gave his a confused look. "Wha-at?" she said in a flustered voice.

"Did it ever occur to you," he said slowly, "that Potter and Dumbledore would have returned if they knew we weren't with them?"

"Not necessarily. They could think that we went the other way on purpose. You know, splitting the group into two?"

"I think that we should come up with a decent idea before we just rush off. That's the way to get us killed, you know."

"Well, I'm not going to stand around her while you feel your way around the walls! I'm going to pick on of these tunnels and follow it, until I come up with another idea. I can't stand around and do nothing when we could be saving Hogwarts! After all, I owe it to everyone—especially that young Gryffindor girl I killed—to do what I can and quickly."

"You aren't going to help anyone by getting yourself killed," he snapped.

"I'm not doing anyone any good standing here either!" she yelled in reply. "I'm going, you can follow me or not." She started walking away, to the tunnel to the left. Suddenly, she felt her hand jerk back, as Severus grabbed her wrist.

"Stop," he snarled, "right now. Stop this."

Emilia jerked her wrist free. "No, you stop this. Do you want to know what Malfoy did, when you were wandering around the school abysmally under Voldemort's control? Do you? You have _no idea_. And this—this is all your fault!"

"What!" Severus snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"While you were 'running errands,' shall we say, for the Dark Lord, I was leading the Gryffindors into a trap! I went to their dormitories and I got them all out. I led them to the Great Hall, where we were all supposed to meet. But you want to know what we found there? —Death Eaters. The Gryffindors, as you and I well know, are probably the most targeted of all the houses combined! And, they had Harry Potter there as well! So, you can guess what kind of panic I was in. Then, out of the corner, Malfoy showed up. We had a little chat, so to speak, and see this," she said, pointing to her youthful face, "this was caused by Malfoy. His little _gift_. And he—" Emilia paused.

"What?"

She held her hand to her lips, and hung her head down, blushing furiously. "He…saw us," Emilia whispered.


	17. Ode To Farewell

AN: Well, it's been a while since I've written to you all, but I couldn't help myself. I put up the stories before I left for vacation, and I am pleased to see so many reviews! No, this story did not die, but I had to take a break to figure out where it's going. When I began to originally write this, it did not intend to go this far or this dramatic. But I figured, hey, what the hell, Voldemort rose at the end of the fourth book so why not write him in? I refuse to, however, write a conversation yet with Voldemort. That'll come later. New allies, etc, will come late as well. Anything yet to be explained will be. I just want to say now, that if you've ever seen "Pet Shop of Horrors" (it's an anime, right, Nataly…? Lol) that our good friend Severus is that main guy there, Dee. Anyway, who's with me that Aragorn/Strider/Viggo Mortensen (I cruelly misspelled that but I don't have my magazine here) should be Sirius Black? Doesn't he just speak to you… "_Sirius…Sirius…_"? Well, that's me anyway. I got the LOTR DVD a cuppa days ago, and on a Legolas kick. So, anyhoo, thank you for all the kind reviews. They made me cry. And, if you know where this is going, please tell me. Because I don't (lol). And I must say, that wasn't meant to be mean. I want to hear where people think this is going. Hell, if I like it, I just might use it! That's why it took me a while to start this up again. Now that I've got me new laptop, expect more chapters! And don't expect any kissing scenes for a while. And remember: I won't make everyone fall in love with her. Because that constitutes a Mary Sue, and I HATE Mary Sue stories.

Well, anyhoos, off I go…

Chapter Seventeen: Ode to Farewell

"Saw us what?" Severus asked cautiously, now having his complete attention toward her.

"Us…um," she said, blushing even deeper. "Er, well, it's kind of hard to say, that is, he saw us…um, well…"

"Spit it out," snapped Severus. "What?"

"Well…he saw us kissing."

"He _what_?"

"You heard me."

"When—how?" he sputtered.

"I don't know! And it's all because of you, you and your goddamn hormones! You're supposed to be the fucking adult in the situation! And…and they all heard him…all those Gryffindors heard him talk that shit to me. And he wasn't subtle about it either. He was very clear. Even those sons of bitches understood. Then the fucking fairy kissed me. Just like you did."

Emilia gasped and covered her mouth in surprise. She hadn't meant to rant on like that.

Severus looked at her, almost ashamed. He seemed rather guilty and backed away from her, like she was going to lash out again and hurt him. The expression shocked Emilia.

"I'm…so sorry!" she said quickly, holding out her hands. "Oh my god, Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean everything I said—"

"Don't apologize," he snapped. Severus looked very angry now. "Don't even do that. It's pity. I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity—"

"But that's why you let me kiss you, though, right? Because you'd feel bad?" Severus interrupted. "Son of a bitch…" he said quietly, mostly to himself. He looked away, his face a slight pinkish color. Severus's expression was very, very angry, yet held something of sorrow and remorse.

Emilia felt like she was going to cry. She'd never felt so terrible in her life, and that had to be nothing compared to how he felt. Emilia held herself steady for a moment, the tears welling up in her eyes.

"That's not it, Severus. You know that," she started. She looked up at him, and saw him like it was for the very first time. His expression was very set; his black eyes soft but the rest of his youthful features in anger. He looked very, very young compared to what she remembered. He was absolutely gorgeous to a point, with his soft black hair falling in his face, which she found that his face was not full but very fit. Severus had very broad shoulders and very lean features. He was very tall and thin, pale and…

…Emilia held her hands up to her mouth to cover another gasp. She was falling in love with Severus Snape, for god's sakes! The man that had tormented her until this point, the man that had been her absolute enemy since the beginning…she'd fallen in love with him...

"Severus...I seriously don't think that—"

Suddenly, loud noises from down the right hallway clamoured into their ears, and the sounds off the walls were deafening. Emilia recognized it as Dumbledore's and Harry's voices.

"Oh my God," she whispered, moving into the hall to hear the voices clearer. "No!" she said, looking at Severus. "Harry! Dumbledore! They're in trouble!"

Emilia immediately took off down the corridor, running as fast as her legs could take her. How could she have been so stupid, to be fantasizing about a romance when everyone was in trouble? What the hell was she thinking?

Her stomach churned with worry and guilt as she sprinted. _I have to keep away from him. This will only get us into trouble, and this...this is so foolish!_

Severus caught up easily alongside her. Her guilt seemed even more evident, her emotions churning in her stomach. Severus must think only the worst of her, she supposed, seeing his angry expression. He must only think that...what happened...was _pity_...

Emilia felt the burning in her calves, but she ignored it. Malfoy had shown her that this relationship was only going to get them into trouble. It was a weakness, for the both of them. A little voice inside of her head said very sarcastically, _Is that all you can think about? The weakness of this?_

That must be how damaged she was. She was figuring out a way to get out of something she _wasn't even in_! The pain seeped up her leg and put a stitch in her side. Served her right. The more pain she felt, the more justified she could feel.

The pain led away from her deep sadness, she noticed. She did really, have feelings for Severus. But she wasn't going to act on them. She wouldn't. She _couldn't_.

_It was the best choice for the both of us. Besides, there would be no way for us to be together, anyway. So, it was best that we stay far apart, then right?_

_...Right?_

The sounds were louder as they apparently got closer to the site of Harry and Dumbledore. There were many other voices than just those two, although Emilia wasn't certain that she knew all the utterances she heard. Pressed tightly against the wall, the two of them inched their way to the light at the end of the hall.

Looking inside, Emilia saw that Harry and Dumbledore were surrounded by various people; Hufflepuff students and a teacher or two. Dumbledore was explaining to them calmly what their next course of action should be. There was a crumpled heap of bodies in front of the Hufflepuff entrance.

"Oh _shit_," Emilia whispered. "What are we going to do now?"

"What we did before," Severus said. "We're going to walk in and assist in every way possible." He sounded so very, very cold. But what did she expect?

Emilia paused, feeling taken aback. "Wouldn't it be better to be concealed away from the spotlight, and help from afar?" Emilia replied, her voice a little bit choked from the huge lump that was forming in her throat. The corner of her eyes began to burn, and she felt the onset of crying. _He must have no idea how I feel—this remorse, that's burning inside me—making my eyes feel like they're on fire and my throat far too small for my neck—and my stomach, needlessly churning..._ "It would probably be better if they didn't know where we are."

"How do you come across that line of logic?"

"Simply, the fact that as soon as the Death Eaters—should they, of course—get hold of them, and if they use a Truth Serum...they could tell them unknowingly where we are..." She _tried _to sound calm.

"I get it," Severus interrupted, trying to listen into Dumbledore's instructions. "Then, one of us should be in there."

There was a slight pause. "You," she said finally, in a near whisper. "You know the Death Eaters best; I should stay out of the way...get the Gryffindors to safety—"

"But—" he interrupted, and stopped. Severus opened his mouth to argue more but was silenced by Emilia's glare. "Whatever you say," he muttered sarcastically. "You certainly know _better_."

Emilia gaped at him for a second. She definitely deserved this, but not like _that_. "Fine," she snapped angrily. She felt bad, but she figured—it was her last chance, to try to make herself forget about Severus—and what better way to do it that piss him off—and in turn, piss her off.... "I _do_ know better," she breathed in, and muttered darkly, "Bastard."

He heard her and glared at her angrily. Emilia caught his gaze and realized something. How could she have been so god damn stupid not to see it before? Maybe the fact that she might die blinded her. The hormones of her new age, the new shift of her body must have been the cause of it....

"Oh my god," she said slowly.

"What?" he snarled, turning to look at her with an angry gaze. "What's so important now, that you must be sure to tell me?" He sounded very irritable.

"I was so stupid," she snapped, "to think that you'd changed. You're still the insufferable asshole I knew in the beginning of the year." God, she _hated_ saying such things. But that's the way it must be.

"Oh really? I'm sorry I deluded you," he replied sarcastically.

Emilia's face flushed with anger. She seemed at a loss of words. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. _He is playing right into your hands_, her mind said.

"Cat got your tongue?" he said triumphantly.

"Oh!" said Emilia angrily, stamping her foot. Turning away, she ran and ran and ran, ignoring the yelling of Severus to tell her to stop. She knew she was making too much of this, and it really hurt to leave off like that, but it was the best she could do at short notice. And, to say the least, it worked. Severus was pissed, and so was she; an irrisistable rush of anger, of fury, swept through her as she ran far away from his resounding calls....

As she was running to the Hufflepuff dormitories, all she could think about was that they could not be together. First off, they were teachers. Professors, at the school. Not to mention, all the Death Eaters were after either him or her, and that alone was the reason she knew she must make the severed connection. To stay...the idea was ludicrous...it was dangerous, it was stupid, and it was just plain bad thinking. It was almost an impairment to their thinking. And she'd successfully managed to make herself mad at him.

Besides...if Severus could be angry with her, then she must be angry with him. But breaking up—whatever they were breaking—was the best choice.

For all of them.

Emilia edged against the wall, moving swiftly across the hallway, leaping from one point of darkness to the next. The search for Dumbledore was still on, she supposed, and was oddly surprised that no one patrolled the hallways she was in.

The first thing she needed to do was get the Gryffindors to a safe place. She didn't know if any of them were still alive—or were even in the Great Hall—but she had to try. Emilia could trust that Severus and Dumbledore would figure out what to do somehow between the two of them, and then maybe they could get the castle back under control. She was tired and would love to go to sleep, despite all that was going on. Underground, coming back through the Slytherin corridors, showed no trace of the rising sun outside. It must be at least five, maybe six, she reasoned. Rubbing her temples and straining her ears to hear for insignificant sounds, she edged her way out of the Potions corridor and into the Entrance Hall.

Lucky for her, the morning was a cloudy and overcast one. The shadows were not illuminated by the sun; quite the contrary. There was going to be a huge storm, by the looks of one of the windows she passed, hiding behind a armor suit. The sky was dark and brooding, with black clouds that flashed and flashed but the thunder was far too slow for each strike. It was miles off, she supposed, and was very lucky that maybe the rumblings of thunder—which were getting louder with each flash—would distract them and even cover up any noises they might make.

She heard noises ahead of her and saw a shimmer of light. Thinking quickly, she glanced around, and saw a small space.

Emilia squeezed herself into the small crack in the wall just as a Death Eater walked by, holding her breath and praying that his wandlight would not give her away. As soon as she couldn't see him anymore, she edged out of the hole and moved from one shadow to the next and she made her way to the far entrance door to the Great Hall. It would be easier for her to make an entrance if she were the farthest away from them, because then she could sneak her way in slowly, instead of barging in.

Walking up to the smallest door that entered the Great Hall, the one near the teacher's table, she pushed in open a crack and put her hood up. Should she be seen, at least she could pose as a Death Eater. It's not like she didn't know how.

Running in and sliding herself against the wall, she held her breath, waiting for someone to speak. But no one noticed. Sliding along the wall, she fell to the floor and sneaked around the corner stone, and watched from afar the dealings of the Gryffindors.

They were still there, many of them lying on the floor. In groups of four, five, and six, there were very few awake. Emilia supposed that one of them kept watch while the others caught precious minutes of sleep. Parvati Patil hadn't been moved, and her friend, Lavender Brown, lay atop of her friend, fast asleep herself. The biggest group was the Weasleys, who were being watched with a hawk eye gaze from the nearest Death Eater. Fred, or George, was sitting up, trying to stay awake. Ginny was sleep with her head in Ron's lap, who was leaning against the wall, fighting the urge to sleep as well. The other twin was fast asleep next to Ron, who had his hand on the twin's head protectively. It looked like they had a rough time. From even this distance, bruises, cuts and scrapes were visible from just them—the rest looked pretty okay.

Breathing a sigh of relief that no one else was dead, she inched her way along the wall to the end of the table furthest from the standing Death Eaters. All of them seemed pretty comatose, without their leader, and with great difficulty, she leaned up against the table awkwardly and poised her wand.

Standing up, and revealing herself, she started to send spells at random to the Death Eaters.

"_Flipendo_!" she cried, sending the nearest hooded guy against the wall, and he slumped down slowly to the ground, unconscious, blood oozing from his ears. "_Reducto_!"

The Death Eater jumped out of the way, the blue sparks missing him by precious inches. "_Crucio_!" he yelled, his voicing booming over the screams of the Gryffindors.

Emilia dodged it by standing on her tip-toes and shoving her stomach backward, the spell skimming the black robes. "Ha!" she said triumphantly. "Missed!" Swinging her arm around, she sent another curse at him. "_Incendio_!" yelled Emilia, a red flame erupting from her wand and sending his robes aflame. He cried out in agony, screaming, as he patted his robes quickly and futilely. He dropped and rolled on the ground, trying frantically to take the flames out.

Suddenly, a hand came from behind her and swung around her neck, lifting her up and gagging her. She flailed in the air, gripping the arm with her one hand while muttering a spell with the other, sending red sparks into his face. He let go at once, walking backwards, covering his eyes and screaming in pain.

"Time to put you out of commission," one of them said, and a green light flew past her ear. She turned around, put her wand in front of her as a flash of lightening illuminated her face.

"_Avada Kedavara_!" she screamed, sending a streak of green light at him. His body fell to the ground, crumpled, dead. She turned to the other two, screaming this same curse as well, killing them and the last Death Eater standing.

"Oh thank some God," Emilia breathed in, running from each of the crumpled heaps, making sure that they can no longer do any damage. When she was sure that they were all dead, Emilia stood and addressed the students.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," she said shakily, watching them all stand up, each of their faces as white as the next. She had no qualms with killing. Not when it was for a cause. And living...well, that constituted a cause, right?

"P-P-Professor?" one of them whispered, looking at the bodies. It was Ron Weasley. "Is Harry all right? I mean, I know he left with you and...Mr. Malfoy..."

Emilia bit her lip. Telling him where Harry was might not be the best of ideas. Once again, she had to consider that they might be captured—again. "He's safe, Weasley," she said, looking at him with wide eyes. "He's with Dumbledore."

"So he's alive!" one of them breathed. Emilia cocked her head.

"What?"

"One the those men said that Dumbledore was finally dead, and that's we'd have a snowball's chance in hell escaping now." Immediately she blushed. It was Hermione Granger. They were all situated around her, inquiring what to do now.

Emilia thought quickly. They were al safe, and that was more that she expected. Her thoughts were interrupted when a tugging was felt at her side. She turned, and saw Lavender Brown's pale, tear stained face. "Professor, what about Parvati?"

"Oh," she said softly. She walked over to the body, and bent down, putting her hand on the ground. Her eyes were still open. It was eerie. Emilia took her hand and rubbed it across her eyes, feeling the eye-lids close. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to the dead girl, restraining tears.

Closing her own eyes, she took a deep breath and opened them. She took her wand and muttered a enchantment that transformed her body into dust, putting in a small vile. It was all she could do. If the parents wanted to put it straight, they can just simply put the spell on the vile to reverse it. The body disintegrated with little colors of light, and the clear vile was there, where Parvati was.

"Take this," she said, picking it up and placing it in Lavender's hands. "Give this to her sister. The spell to reverse this is _Finite Incantatem_," she croaked. "Tell her this. I'm so sorry, Lavender."

"Me too, Professor," she replied, her voice strained with tears. "Me too."


	18. Trial And Error

AN: sorry so short, but I couldn't resist posting again. I'll be a while, and I know you'll kill me for the way this ends, so please, don't. Sev doesn't show up yet. This is what I call the "transitional" chapter into the next world. Anyhoo, I just said what I wanted to last chapter, so please, enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen: Trial And Error

Emilia now had to figure out what _exactly_ she was going to do with the Gryffindors, now that she'd gotten them all safe. With all of them looking at her expectantly with ashen faces, she found that she wasn't _as_ sure as she was before about finding them a way out.

She needed to get them out of harms way. Right now, they were no better than they were with the Death Eaters. Things were looking up, though. She needed to get them to Dumbledore. He'd know what to do. Then, she was going to do some spy work.

"We need to go to the Hufflepuff Common Room," she said clearly. She wasn't quite sure of where it was, just the general direction. There were about twenty of them, she counted quickly. One group was too big. Two groups would take too much time. Hmm...

"All right, this is how were going to do it. I'm going to take all of you, all at once. We must keep as quiet as possible. This is of the highest importance. Do I make myself clear?"

They all nodded slowly, and each of them looked scared. This was no help. "Okay then, let's go." She walked to the door and pulled, opening it just a little. Scanning the area, she saw no one. She walked out and raised her wand. "If you see anyone, tell me and don't be afraid to defend yourself. I hope I taught you well enough for that."

"_Defend us against animals, not people!_" someone whispered urgently, and Emilia noticed they were all on the brink of nervous breakdown. Emilia felt her exhaustion settle in, and their nervous faces made her anxious and tired, both at the same time.

All twenty of them made their way through the corridors, quietly and cautiously. Emilia could hear every footstep, every breath, every whisper that they made, and it was making her paranoid. Certainly someone would hear them. Certainly they would meet someone on their way. It was inevitable. And it was foolish to think otherwise.

One of the Weasley twins had made his way to the front of the group. "Professor," Fred said calmly, "I think we could be of assistance."

She glanced at them, and saw Lee Jordan and his brother standing there. Bruises and cuts were on all of them, more so on the twins. In the bright shine from the flashes of lightening, pouring from the windows, she could see they were tired and frightened.

"We know this school better than anyone," Fred continued, and gestured to the wall. "I can probably get us all there in a very short time."

Emilia looked at him for a moment. That suggestion would definitely enable them to get to Dumbledore before anyone found them—but _what if they got lost inside the corridors of the walls_? Severus and she almost did once, and the prospect of having 20 adolescent children in a panic was something she did not need at all.

"Are you three sure you can get us there safely?" she said. Even she did not know the way to the Hufflepuff common room, and this was probably the best idea she had heard today, she was wary of entering the walls again.

"There's a statue up ahead," Jordan said. "If you open it up, it leads right to where you need to go. The only thing is..." he said, trailing off and looking at the twins expectantly—a panicky kind of expectancy, an anxious look.

"It is very, very narrow," George finished. "About two feet wide, at the most, and four feet tall. It's a small nook, really. But it's the fastest way."

"Unless you want to walk down further. There are so few passages that lead over to the Hufflepuff Dormitory, not many of our trails would help you," the other twin continued.

"Not to mention," Jordan added, "the only other trail to the Hufflepuff Dormitory is near the Potions corridor."

The three of them were silent. She could hear the wind howling outside, and the thunder booming in the distance. "We didn't think it wise to use that corridor, Professor," Fred said at last.

"Of course," Emilia agreed, waving her hand. She weighed her options. None of them were good options. They must be talking about the one that she came through, after she parted with Severus and Dumbledore. That corridor was large, but crawling with Death Eaters, many of them on the lookout for Dumbledore. What the hell was she going to do?

Looking at her group, she saw that not many of them would have problems going through, but if one of them got stuck...could she risk doing magic inside the walls? Something needed to go right this morning. They said it was the fastest way. She believed them, of course, and decided that she needed to take the risk.

"Show us the way," she said to their expectant faces.

Fred smiled weakly and told her to follow him. They edged their way against the wall, and suddenly, without even realizing it, she had reached the statue they were talking about.

"_Alohomora!_" George whispered, pointing his wand at the statue of Franc the Friendly, whose arm was up in a happy wave. The arm swung down and the statue moved out, edging along the floor slowly, making a creaking sort of noise. She scrunched her nose at the sound, hoping that no one can hear. The loudness of it made her heart jump—surely, _surely_—someone ought to have heard it. It was so loud, she held her breath, waiting for some Death Eater to pop out from behind the corner. But nothing came. Emilia look back at the statue, and saw that it had opened all the way, revealing a narrow, dark inside. The entrance was jagged and very rough stone; much different from the passage near the Slytherin corridors. At a first glance, even if she saw the statue open, she wouldn't have bothered with it, that's how small it appeared.

It was barely two feet wide; like the twins had said, it was a small and narrow passage. They would have to edge in one at a time. She appointed Fred at the beginning of the group, to lead them, along with Hermione Granger, the fifth year Prefect. Emilia figured that Granger, being nearly a copy-paste model of McGonagall, would be the best choice for order where she couldn't see. Lee Jordan offered to take up the middle, after seven or so people went through; going through himself, she could tell that he was not as confident as he tried to be. George Weasley took up the end, along with Emilia. She edged in herself, banging her head on the ceiling, and closed the statue, yanking it once again through the floor. Now it was completely dark in the tunnel.

"_Lumos_!" was whispered up and down the hall. The dark hallway suddenly lit up with those who had their wands, which was not many. Out of twenty, only twelve of them had wands, including herself. Suddenly, she began to worry. Not enough people had the ability to defend themselves...

The corridor was small and cramped; Emilia felt herself slide uncomfortably against the wall. How long was this corridor? How much had they covered? Thirty feet? Forty? She could no longer see far behind her; the maximum was two feet, as the corridor went up and twisted in a spiral. Emilia figured that they were going up an inside of a tower. Without warning, the walls condensed a little, and Emilia began to feel the onset of claustrophobia. Her stomach was tight and her muscles tense; her worry for being caught was almost unbearable.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. In her own wandlight, she saw George's face change from ashen to pale to stark white. "How long is this corridor?"

"Not too much further, Professor," he said, his voice strained. "About another fifty feet."

She nodded abruptly. God, this was only getting worse. The walls were coming even closer. Emilia estimated a foot now, in width. At least the top was getting taller. She was able to stand up properly, and Emilia was five foot-seven.

Twenty feet...thirty feet...she counted off the amounts in her head. They would be there soon...but she had no idea the distance from there to the dormitory. And would Dumbledore even be there, once they finally arrived? God, she hoped so. She would cry if he wasn't; that's how upset she was.

"Professor, Fred is out," George said suddenly. There had been whispers down the line; it was much like the Muggle game of Telephone. "He wants to know what you'd like to do."

Emilia bit her lip. She very well couldn't edge her way down the line to see if it is safe. She reached in her pocket, and felt for something—anything—she could send to Fred. By her luck, Potter kept a spare bit of parchment and a Muggle pen in his pocket (which she found odd, to say the least). Pulling off the cap to the felt pen, she scrawled in untidy handwriting to Fred that he should find the nearest classroom—preferably alone—and unlock it. Then he should get everyone in there, telling them that they should all look for any signs of trouble before crossing. She waited a second, to let the ink dry, then folded it in half. She whispered to George, "Hand this down to Weasley, please."

"Certainly," he said, taking the note and nudging the person next to him. She watched to note pass from on person to the next until she could no longer see the paper. Emilia sighed. She needed some rest. Her stomach hurt, from the stress and the pain...her mind was exhausted, her body was exhausted...and she felt like she couldn't deal with planning so far ahead, agreeing with the negative images and trying to plan around them, trying to make sure that they all arrive safely and soundly...

Emilia closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deep. She trying to calm herself down...but it wasn't working. She was nudged by George, once more. "He's found a classroom. He's going right now, and from what I've heard, it's really close to the Hufflepuff Dormitories."

Emilia opened her eyes, and turned to him. Trying to give him a smile, though it was weak, she said, "Thank you, George."

They moved up the corridor, and Emilia was happy no blood curdling screams errupted yet. Finally, it was just George and her left, and they made their way across the hall and down to the right, entering a Charms classroom.

It was a small room, used for special classes, and therefore the desks were spread apart, totally maybe about ten tables throughout the room. There was three windows on the other side, small, open castle windows in the wall, and the murky outside gave her stomach a little jolt. The clouds were swirling within themselves, a black and dark gray mass, flashing with jagged lightening and loud cracks of thunder (AN: I don't usually do this, but to get the better example, think of the clouds in Twister with the "jumper" tornado they got stuck in—the one where Bill tries to comfort Joe, and Bill's fiancée get _really_ pissed). It must be right on them. There was no rain, however, but the wind was so strong it was making even the Whomping Willow bend to its will; the top most branches were brushing the ground, and it pounded on the castle walls. The lake, she could see, was slamming the ground with four feet waves with pure-white crests. Emilia felt suddenly very small, and very scared.

All of them were jumping or gasping with the thunder, which rang in their ears. Emilia plucked up her courage and turned around, facing the class and looking at them squarely.

"All right, I'm going to go and make sure Dumbledore is inside the Hufflepuff Common Room. Then I'm going to come out and bring you all in. Please, I want you to get down near the ground, and try not to make any sounds. I'm going to lock the door when I leave, so please, don't leave. I know all of you are tired, scared and hurt," she continued, glancing at Ginny and Ron Weasley, who were the most battered of all, "but please bear with me. I'm tired and hurt just like all of you. So I know what it feels like, and I know it's a terrible burden, but please bear with me. I promise much sleep and food when we get done." She smiled weakly. "All right, I'm leaving now. Please, all of you, lay down and _keep quiet_. Don't talk, try not to move, just relax and calm down while I consult with the Headmaster." She spun away and opened the door cautiously. She heard shufflings as people got on the floor, and turned around. They were all lying on their stomachs or their backs, all of them in a dreary state of exhaustion. She nodded, revolving on her heel, and turned her attention to the door, muttering the Locking Charm. She heard it click, and then, peering outside, she exited swiftly and closed the door behind her.

The hall was dark and fairly eerie...much like the Slytherin corridors, but the Hufflepuff dormitories were on the fifth floor. The thunder continued to roll outside, with no signs of relenting. It was almost suitable to the situation, she thought, slightly amused. She edged along the wall, and looked around the corner. Just as she did, the flash of lightning struck through the window, blinding her for a moment. She turned back, and breathed in deep. She nearly screamed. This goddamn storm was going to be the last of her. It was creeping her out. She never much liked thunder or lightning; especially lightning.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and was on her shoulder. Emilia whipped her head around, her hand jutting out and smacking the assailant in the stomach, who collapsed with a satisfied knocked-wind sound and her wand was pointing at his head. She looked down at who it was, and gasped.

"_You!_"


	19. Fateful Downfalls

AN: Welcome to the next installment of Black Prospects. I am sorry that it took so long to post again, but unfortunately, with the taking of two AP courses and Drivers Education, not to mention work and everything else, I have been quite busy. This is for you. I meant to post many more times than I actually got to. I have revised this chapter at least three times. This is the final version. I'm sorry for no romance yet. But there will be soon, I promise. It just seems inappropriate for this part in the story. But the way, if you find the plotline in this story, I seriously will award you something. Because I've lost it after the fifth chapter…

Chapter Nineteen: Fateful Downfalls

She would have recognized that mat of hair anywhere. Even though it was cut short, it would never get rid of the black mat it once was.

Sirius Black looked up at her, rubbing his stomach pointedly. "Thanks," he wheezed, glaring up at her.

"_What are you doing here?_" she said in a whisper, trying to keep her voice down but the surprise was all the same. "You're supposed to be on the run...elsewhere..."

"Shut up," he said, standing. "You are Emilia Black, right? You match his description..." He shook off his robes, and cracked his knuckles. "I finally found you, though. Dumbledore was very worried." He looked away.

"Oh," she said meekly, trying to read his face. _What the hell was he doing here? This is the snake pit for him. It's worst than a tour of the Ministry of Magic..._

"Did Dumbledore explain my...position...to you?" he asked slowly, trying to keep an apt awareness of his surroundings. She noticed that his eyes were dark, a deep brown, but they held this gaze that reminded her much of her father's victims, and those that were stuck in Azkaban too long....

"Yes. He said that you are innocent. And that you're one to be trusted. But, still, _what are you doing here_? This castle is crawling with Death Eaters! The Dark Lord is in the Slytherin Common Room as I speak!"

"I know," he said darkly, turning at her. Sirius was looking at her with an odd expression. Emilia realized she was shivering and her hands were shaking. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine but...how did he...know...how did he get to you?" she sputtered, ignoring his last comment. If he's been to Dumbledore...would he know whether or not he was in the Hufflepuff Common Room? The longer she stood here, the longer those Gryffindors were in danger.

"He sent an owl to me from his office. Right after the Yule Ball, I heard." He paused, and stared. "Are you _sure_ you're fine? You've got a cut, on your head—" he brush a finger across the gash on her temple, which she did not notice was throbbing until now, "and bruises...were you in a fight? There are finger marks on under your chin..."

She raised her hand and grasped her neck, and realized that was from Malfoy, earlier. "I said I was fine," she replied irritably. She did not need someone to point out to her how tired and hurt she felt. She needed to find Dumbledore. "Where is he?"

"Dumbledore?" She nodded at him. "He's in the Hufflepuff Common Room. Why?" he asked.

"I have twenty Gryffindors for him," she said, leaning back against the wall. It was very quiet up here. It was slightly eerie, but calming all the same. She closed her eyes and paused for a moment. She needed rest...sleep...exhaustion was tingling at every nerve in her body, her adrenaline washing away...

"Emilia, don't fall asleep standing there," Sirius said, shaking her newly aching shoulder. She tried hard not to flinch. "The Gryffindors, eh?" he laughed a bit. "How did you manage that?"

"Fred and George Weasley," she said, opening one bleary eye. "You going to show me to the Hufflepuff Common Room so I can talk to Dumbledore, or what?"

"Fine," he replied. "This way." He started to walk down the corridor cautiously.

She was right behind him, trying to keep her footsteps light on the hardwood floor. "Is Harry all right?" she asked, knowing through Dumbledore that Sirius was closer to Harry and would know how he was.

"He's fine. He's resting in the Hufflepuff Dormitories. You know, you look like you could use a bit of rest yourself. When was the last time you slept?"

"Not since yesterday. Or, actually," she paused, "perhaps it's been more than that. I don't remember how long ago it was." She sighed softly, and hung her head. "God, I wish for a two hour nap, even." Emilia was quiet for a moment, and was beginning to become anxious again. This was taking too long.

"When was the last time you were in the Dormitory?" she asked quietly as they rounded another corner. "And how far is it?"

"I was in it about an hour ago, when Harry and Dumbledore raced in. I had been moving through the corridors—in the walls—to see if I couldn't find Dumbledore myself. He said that you helped him to escape. But you weren't behind him...so he sent me off to look for you and McGonagall. But I've yet to find her." Sirius paused. "It's only past this corner, now."

Pushing open the wall, Sirius went in and Emilia followed. "As I'm sure you've noticed, the pictures have all fled, and the only way into the Dormitories is the way used by teachers."

"Yes," Emilia replied. A little light popped on in her head. "You must know every passage in this school," she said in awe, glancing about her.

"Almost," he said, and she could tell even in the dark he was grinning. "We're here." He pushed open the wall, and it opened to the Common Room. Emilia's fist impression was that, everyone was gone. Only two people remained in the room, excluding the heap of people still sitting near the entrance. _They must all be asleep_, she thought.

Her first impression of the exterior of the Hufflepuff Common Room was that it was airy. Open windows were breezing in, the freezing air moving in. It had yet to rain, but the thunder and lightning were still at it. The room was illuminated by a distant flash, and she saw that it was decorated with an light touch. A pale yellow fabric hung from the windows and the tapestry was a gorgeous gold. Black leather chairs and a small couch were positioned in front of the hearth, and a fire crackled softly behind grates. Marble topped tables were around the room, with books and vases of flowers on them. The stone walls only seemed to accent the room, a light sandy colored stone. 

Dumbledore was right there, sitting, and Severus was still talking to him. When they entered, both of them looked up and gave surprised faces. Then they stood, and Dumbledore's face pulled into a smile, while Severus's face was full of mounting dislike, glancing from Sirius to herself.

Emilia gave a worried glance at Severus, who looked like he wanted to spit fire. "Um, we've got Gryffindors waiting to come in here," she said to Dumbledore. "They're in one of the Charms classroom. Do you want me to bring them in here? I figured they'd be safest with you."

Dumbledore glanced at her with an anxious look himself. _He must have noticed the cuts and bruises_, she thought. He wore the same look Sirius'd had. "Yes, please, bring them in here," he said finally. "That is the best thing for now." Emilia looked at him, and his smile had washed away. He had a look of sadness on his face. Severus, on the other hand, couldn't keep his outburst in.

"What is he doing here?" he said suddenly, pointing at Sirius Black.

"He's helping," Emilia replied angrily, clenching her fists. Turning to Dumbledore, she said, "I will go get them, Professor. They all need sleep, and I think the Weasleys may need medical attention."

Dumbledore's face softened. "Sirius, please go with her and make sure that everyone is okay."

"Yes sir," he said, and turned to Emilia. "Come on," Sirius spoke softly, and Emilia nodded. Glancing back, Severus was shooting sparks from his eyes. He was very angry. Emilia tried to ignore the paining in her stomach. She turned away and went out the passage, looking for Death Eaters. Seeing no one, they crept back to the Charms classroom.

"What was wrong?" she asked. "They seemed very preoccupied."

"I sensed something like that too," Sirius replied, looking around a corner. Edging along the wall, Emilia heard something behind her. Turning around, she saw a rampaging Malfoy.

"Oh shit!" she whispered. Tugging on Sirius's black robe, she pointed to the figure barely visible. "Malfoy!"

Sirius gave a grim look at him. "This isn't good..." he whispered. Grabbing her hand, he turned to look at her and she seemed to get a sense of the danger that _he_ was in. He dragged her down the hall and to the left. "Come on!" he said, running a little faster. Emilia started to become slower, and she couldn't keep up with him. He was now dragging her behind him, and they passed the corridors to the Charms rooms.

Whipping her around the corner, she bumped into the wall and Sirius leaned over her, looking around the corner. He still was gripping her hand, tightly.

"Anyone?" she whispered anxiously.

"No," he said. "They mustn't have seen us." He backed up and looked at her. "You okay?"

Emilia realized she was very scared, her entire body trembling. She was afraid of Malfoy. She knew that if he found her, he would kill her on the spot—or worse. And they were lurking near Dumbledore's hideout, as well...

"What happened?" he asked cautiously. "Something—where the Gryffindors were—something happened there, didn't it? Harry only told me that they were captured by Malfoy and his gang...but he said mostly it was a conversation between you two..."

Emilia felt her eyes start to water. She wished that he would look away. "Sirius, it's a long story...I really can't explain it..."

His hand touched her cheek, and she felt her face begin to feel warm. "What did he do to you, Emilia?" Sirius asked. His touch felt so warm, and so welcoming...Emilia felt the tears fall down her cheek. It wasn't Malfoy. It was Severus. He couldn't...he felt better than this...Emilia bit her tongue to hold back a sob. God, he was so _angry_ with her when she went into that dormitory. But that's what she wanted right? It pained her yet again to know that something she wanted was so far unattainable...once more.

_Damn Sirius for being a womanizer..._she thought. She knew him for the last three years of her schooling at Hogwarts, because Severus and Sirius were both in the same year. And in that short space of knowing him, by name only, Emilia was amazed that day after day, people would say how great Sirius Black was, and the change of his girlfriends with the change of the tide. That was the only reason she knew who he was. That, and the newspapers.

She turned her head away from him. "It's not Malfoy," she said with a sigh. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She could feel a sob wanting to explode from her. She wished he wouldn't stand so close to her...

Voices grew louder as their troop of Death Eaters grew closer. Pushing her hands out, and getting his warm, soft skin from hers, she said irritably, "We need to hurry. They are getting closer." She wiped away her tear and turned away, hiding her face.

Sirius looked at her, then scowled. Stepping back, he murmured, "Where's the classroom?"

"This way—" she said, and was interrupted by a loud sound. Someone had blown up a wall nearby. Her face started to go pale...she could feel the blood drain from her face. "What are they _doing_?" she whispered tersely. She dared to look around the corner, to see what was coming.

He said something quietly.

"What?" she snapped. Emilia looked up and saw his smooth face harden.

"We should probably go now," he replied shortly. Oh great, now _he's_ pissed at her too. What luck she held.

She led the way to the classroom, treading lightly on the floor, should the approaching Death Eaters hear. When they reached the classroom door, she turned around quickly and Sirius bumped into her. "What?"

She held up her hand. "They don't know that you are innocent. They might recognize you."

He smiled. "I don't look _really_ much like I did a year ago, do I?" There was a playful look on his face, even at this time of danger.

"No...you do look a lot better," she said carefully, not looking at him. If anything, that was a lie. He looked absolutely gorgeous compared to what he was a year ago. 

"Then...where were you going with this?" he asked, crossing his arms. A cold gesture, something like Severus would do.

"I think I should call you by a different name, you know?" he nodded. "Then how about..." she paused, trying to think of a name to cover up Sirius. She picked the name that she adored the most. "Edward?" 

He nodded in agreement. Then Emilia remembered something. "Wait, before we go in," she said, leaning against the wall, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, putting on hand on the wall, and leaning against it.

"How come you're here?"

"Well," he said slowly, "Dumbledore wanted a meeting with me, after the Yule Ball. He wanted to address something. Something about, that he felt something had changed in the school...but, when I got there, I saw many cloaked figures around the outside of the school. Using the entrance from Honeydukes—" Emilia wondered how he got in without getting caught, "—I came up to Dumbledore's office quickly. I told him what the outside looked like, and he said 'It was as I feared.' Hogwarts was under an attack. So he sent me to fetch the other teachers, and somehow Dumbledore must've gotten captured along the way, because he wasn't where he said he would be. He asked me to meet him in front of the Hufflepuff dormitories when I got done, but there was a Death Eater already there...I assumed the worst, and set off to look for him. But when I got down to the most likely place—the Slytherin Common Room—it was all in an uproar, because Dumbledore had escaped."

"And that's when you found him..." she trailed off. "That puts the arrangement of events in perspective." Dumbledore had gone to the Hufflepuff Dormitories like he'd arranged to do, and Sirius had just followed him there. Curious, they must've passed when he went to the Dormitory. It was the same route, assuming that he used the one near the Slytherin Common Room entrance. She sighed. Maybe she'd already gotten out before he had gone in. That means he'd have met with Severus...

"Did you talk to Severus?" she asked. Then she immediately wished she'd said "Snape" instead.

He gave her a disgusted look. "Hmm...that idiot man...I only saw him, but I didn't talk to him...he looked severely pissed at something—or someone—" he paused. "Was it you he was mad at?"

"Yeah," she said quickly. Her stomach sank. Oh, how this entire thing hurt...she wanted everything to go back to normal. But what _was_ normal?

"You ready to go in?" he asked, after a moment of silence.

"Yes," she said, and unlocked the door.


	20. Distraught Secrets

AN: Here's the next chapter. This one was revised the most. To tell the truth, there was a romance scene at the end. But I had to take it out. I apologize. Soon, I promise, soon. When it is most appropriate for the scene, it will be grand. That is, if course, if I can write it. Sometimes I can't write romance scenes!

Shameless promoting: read my other stories! Before the Wake is a good story, read it (it's about pre-Harry through the eyes of a Slytherin girl). It's not long at all. And it's a good read.

More shameless promoting: read the Rise and Fall. It's a story that I'm actually working on! YAY! I'm almost done with the next chapter. In fact, I'm almost done with the next chapter for this one. YAY!

Chapter Twenty: Distraught Secrets

"Professor!" one of them cried. Sirius stepped into the room, and she heard two of them gasp.

"This is..." she paused. "One of Dumbledore's recruits to help us get the castle back. His name is Edward, and he'll help you all to Dumbledore." They started to talk, but she held up your hand. "I do not want to alarm you, but there are Death Eaters crawling outside. It is of the highest importance that you all remain quiet and cautious." Sirius leaned into her ear and whispered something.

"Ron and Hermione know who I really am," he spoke softly into her hair. "But it's all right. They won't give anything away."

She nodded, feeling his breath and his face against her skin, smooth and warm...and then, just as if it were, it was gone. He was talking softly to some of them, and Emilia was trying to quickly come up with how they plan to get out of her and into the Hufflepuff Dormitories.

"Si-er, Edward," she said, correcting herself, and turned to him. "What if you take ten—and I take ten? Then we can split the group in half and keep a better eye on them."

He nodded, and counted up a random ten—which included Ron and Hermione as one of them. She didn't think that was accidental, but didn't say anything. "Good luck, Edward," she added, as he escorted them out of the door.

He gave her a playful grin. "I can only do what I can, Em," he replied, and walked out the door cautiously. She stood there for a second, and then realized that he called her, "Em." She didn't take as an insult but she didn't take as a complement, either. Since when were they on a nickname basis? It didn't occur to her that maybe it was just pulling her leg, but she was paranoid when it came to her name. Nicknames irked her to no end. She had grown up with having only her real first name used, and she'd never had a nickname before. But, admist all that was going on, she ignored it and started to play attention to the clock on the far wall.

She made them wait a full ten minutes before they continued out themselves. Emilia paused when she opened the door, and listened for any voices. She heard none. "Come," she said, walking out the door slowly. She paused in the hallway, and listened for anything as they filtered out of the classroom. "Keep quiet," she reminded them. "And follow me."

She lead them to the Hufflepuff Dormitories without any problems...it was unnerving that they'd managed to get so far so fast without any delay...she had the entrance open and all of them were in—she was just about to close the door when—

"Emilia?" a voice asked. She whipped her head around. The voice was neither angry nor happy; it was the voice of Minerva McGonagall.

She was very bloody and she was very tired. She had gashes on her face and arms, and bruises were prominent all over. Her sleep robes were torn, and her hair was completely down in a glossy black mess. Emilia's first impression was that she looked simply terrible.

"Minerva!" she whispered, taking her hand off the door, cautiously moving away from the entrance. "Oh, Minerva, we've been so worried as to where you might have been!" She walked over to her friend and put her hand on her shoulder. "God, what happened to you?"

She looked up at Emilia, with a glassy look in her eyes. "Emilia, it's been terrible..." she swallowed hard. Emilia couldn't help but feel sympathy, and it tore at her heart. But...the question still remained...where had she been before? And of all places, to turn up right near where Dumbledore was...or where the Death Eaters suspected they were...

Emilia took another step back. This was not Minerva. She could tell, in her heart, that this was a cut and paste impostor. Trying not to let "Minerva" figure out, she took a deep breath. "Minerva, where were you? We've been so worried."

"I—" she paused. This was not an Imperius Curse victim, she could tell, because that would have been one of the answers the Death Eaters had given her. It would have been to sway her caution. So that left two options. Emilia had been around these sort of victims before. She knew all their tricks; her father had taught her everything she knew.

The two options were either that was the real Minerva, and that she was a pawn for the Death Eaters (on the bargain of her life). She didn't really know Minerva enough to know whether or not that she'd consort to such vile agreements. The only other option was that this was someone else with Minerva's body; a Polyjuice Potion participant. Which Emilia figured, was the answer.

"Minerva?" she asked, looking at her. She was holding her head, like she had a very bad headache. "How did you come up here?"

"There was an explosion," she said at last. Emilia recognized her actions: she was very, very hungover. "I got caught in it. When I woke, I was surrounded by those angry...those vile creatures. And at the head of the group was Lucius Malfoy. I instantly knew what was going on. Death Eaters had invaded Hogwarts. It was bound to happen; how can you not expect it when Voldemort has risen again?" She paused. "I wasn't bound to anything; I think they suspected that I would stay unconscious longer than I was. But I needed to get out of there—and quickly. They didn't notice I was awake—I think I'm glad for that—and then, out of nowhere, more people entered the room. They were taking about the whereabouts of Albus...apparently they lost him or something...and my first thought was, 'Albus was captured? And they didn't kill him!?' But anyway," she said, holding her temples with her forefingers. "He was gone, someone rescued him from wherever he was...they were so angry they none of them took the time to notice me. But they mentioned you, Emilia," she said, looking at her with tired eyes. "I must warn you, if you come across Lucius Malfoy—ever—he will not hesitate to kill you. Whatever you did to him was something unbelievable."

She leaned against the wall. Emilia could not help but feel sorry for her. However, that comment about Lucius Malfoy seemed...out of place. "I know that Lucius will kill me," she said softly. "Was there anything else? How did you manage to find me?"

"Well, I heard that someone attacked the Great Hall, and the Gryffindors had escaped—you told me they were going down to the Great Hall. But it was a trap!" Emilia nodded.

"I know."

"And then—they said something about the fifth floor seemed fishy, seemed like Dumbledore was up to something here. And then I came here—I know the passages, Sprout's told me a fair few times that if she ever were not able to save her own children, then she would like me best to do it. Rather than Professor Flitwick, which you know is the Head of Ravenclaw."

"Yes, I do," she replied. Well, that explains a little bit. She heard it from the Death Eaters. But—_but_—something still didn't feel right. She couldn't put her finger on it though...something seemed forced, too real, too detailed...

"How long have you been on the fifth floor?" Emilia asked.

"I've been roaming around, listening to the Death Eaters—trying to figure out what they are planning next—and then, coming around this corner, I saw you and the Gryffindors enter where Sprout told me to go."

"You saw us?" she asked, her voice slightly high. Recovering, she added, "Well, they are all safe, except for one."

"What?"

Emilia waved her hand. She strained her ears to hear for any oncoming sounds. Hearing none, she sighed. "I'm just glad to see that you are okay, Minerva."

"And you," she replied. Emilia didn't like the feeling in the pit of her stomach—that gnawing feeling that said something was wrong—of her sixth sense. Something was off, something little, something she needed to catch at. Emilia tried to remember everything her father had said about telling the Death Eater apart from others. There was the Dark Mark, of course, and then there was the numerous other things that sometimes you could catch them off guard. Minerva's story was very believable...and the hangover—only those that knew she was drinking was be able to pull off one so believable, and yet, she'd never seen Minerva with a hangover anyway, so it wasn't a useful clue. _What_ was she going to do?

If it was Minerva, she couldn't very well leave her outside, where she might be tortured again—or worse. But she couldn't enter the passage so long as she didn't know who it was. And the longer she waited, the more likely the chance that a Death Eater would find them or...someone from the inside would come out to see where she'd been off to.

She had no way to figure it out. Unless she asked a question that only the true Minerva would know—since this clearly was not a case of the Imperius Curse. She would sort of know whether or not that Minerva was really who she said she was.

"Can I ask you a question, Minerva?" she asked.

Minerva looked up. "Hmm?"  
"I...I'm having some doubts. Can I ask you a question?" Fear flickered over her face. Good, she'd caught whoever it was off guard. Now for a complete out of the place question. "Do you remember the first time we talked? I mean, the exact day?"

"We've been friends for so long, Emilia, I can't really remember the _first_ day we talked...right before school started, right?" she paused. "Um, August, sometime, then...why?"

Emilia stomach sank. This wasn't McGonagall. McGonagall, for one, knew everything; what happened and where, when and with whom. And they most certainly were _not_ friends since the beginning of school. Quietly, she turned her head away. These Death Eaters thought they were incompetent. They thought they wouldn't be able to see though the disguise.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It was a nice try, though..." she paused, "Lucius..."

The angry face of McGonagall was shown, then went back to placidness. "What?"

"You're too sloppy," she replied. "And I still have your wand, so don't piss me off."

"What _are_ you talking about, Emilia?"

"Shove off, Lucius. I know it's you," she replied coolly. "The answer is wrong. You clearly did not interrogate your hostage enough. I asked you a simple question, and you got it wrong. Father would be disappointed in you."

Suddenly, the features were taking their proper form; the hair was lightening and growing shorter, and McGonagall was growing taller and more masculine. Suddenly, in the ripped dress robes of Minerva, stood Lucius Malfoy, angrier than she'd ever seen him before.

"I tried you give you a chance..." he growled at her. "You mistake me for a fool."

"You _are_ a fool," she said. "You gave yourself away from the start. Where is McGonagall?"

"Like hell I'd tell you," he replied angrily. "You are such an insufferable little girl, and you always will be. You don't know everything, Emilia. And now I've come back. I want my wand, and I want you dead." Malfoy's hand slipped up and grasped around her neck, lifting her off the ground, choking her. "You will die by my own hands, if I must..."

She started to gag. "Let—go—of me!" she struggled, kicking and flailing her legs.

"No," he murmured softly. "I tried to give you something that everyone wants. I tried to give you a reason not to disobey us. Yet, somehow that _stupid_ nerve of yours got in my way, and now you'll pay for my humiliation!"

Her face felt hot and cold at the same time, as it was turning blue. Finally she kicked him in the groin area, and he let go of her. She slid to the floor, dizzy and angry. "You son of a bitch," she snapped. Her leg came out of no where, slipping out and knocking him down to the ground. Soon they were face to face. "By the way, girl robes have always suited you, you fucking fairy."

Malfoy's face twisted into furious rage. "_You...you tramp!_" he seethed. With a ruffle of his robes, his hands swung out from the folds and reached out, and this time grabbed her face and neck. "I hope to God that you suffer a long and painful death."

She gagged again, feeling a bitter taste on her lips and in her mouth. Trying desperately, she started scratching his hands off of her. They were rough and tight, and Emilia couldn't budge them if she tried. Stars started to spin in front of her as she started to black out. Emilia felt the pounding in her ears and spots before her eyes.

Finally, she saw a black figure in the background, but it was too late for him to do anything. She'd already lost consciousness.

"Emilia..." a voice whispered in front of her. "Emilia..."

Emilia opened her eyes. "What?" She tried to sit up quickly, but strong hands pushed her back down. "What happened?"

"You blacked out," he said. "Are you okay? You look really bruised. Again."

She looked up, her eyesight clearing and saw Severus's young face staring down at her. She felt herself blush. "How long have I been out?" she said, sitting up on her elbow.

"Not long. Perhaps an hour," he replied. Her head felt dizzy and her eyesight was blurry. Everything seemed to be underwater. She put a hand to her head, trying to see clearly. It was nauseating. "You look terrible, Emilia."

"Gee, thanks," she replied sarcastically.

"I'm happy to see your personality isn't affected," he snapped, just as equally sarcastic.

She turned away. "Sorry." With his help, she managed to stand without throwing up. Her hand touched the wall behind her. God, she felt like_ shit_. But where was Lucius? "Where is he?" she croaked, rubbing her neck.

"Lucius? He's...unavoidably detained." Severus looked away from her, toward the lump of person on the floor, his hair falling in his face. Emilia then realized what had happened. In a crumpled heap on the floor beyond Severus lay the breathless body of Lucius Malfoy. She tore her eyes away from the sight before her and looked back at Severus. She did not notice the cuts and bruises that were all over him before...because of _her_...

"Oh my God," she whispered, covering her mouth and backing up to the wall. She waited for the new rush of nausea to not overwhelm her, and then glanced back at him. "I can't believe—"

Severus looked back up at her, a harsh look on his face. He met her gaze, and saw the look of hollow remorse in his eyes. Finally tearing away from his deep, black eyes, she said, "Oughtn't we get back to Dumbledore?"

"No," he spoke quietly. "They've already left."

"What?" she said. "What's—what's going on?"

"Dumbledore is going to the Ministry of Magic now, to which I think that Voldemort will of course, remove himself from the castle and leave his lesser minions—Black," he spoke his name angrily, "has gone to fetch Remus Lupin," once again, he was rather angry, "and Sprout is watching the two houses. We are to find Minerva and check on the other houses. I have Potter's map in my pocket; it should make our job a little easier," he finished, patting his breast pocket, which was inside his robes. His face full of concern, he asked, "Do you feel all right?"

"Yes," she replied. As if on cue, her stomach lurched and she couldn't conceal her pale, worn out appearance. She was lying, of course. The dizziness was very predominant, and there was a throbbing in her temples. Her eyes kept wanting to roll into the back of her head, and the dry heaving she was choking down wasn't helping.

Severus's hand touched her cut on her forehead, which had ripped open when she fell. Dried blood trailed her cheek. She was tired and beat up and hurt, both emotionally and physically. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, turning from his gaze. That touch alone sent shivers up her spine, more than Sirius's did.

"Emilia, if you don't feel well, then tell me," he said softly. "You've got bruises and cuts everywhere. And you are pale. Do not lie to me." His voice sounded very commanding, very imperious.

She looked back up at him. His fingers lingered on his face for a moment, before he took them back, almost reluctantly. "We have to clean that blood off of your face," he said.

She reached up and touched the blood. She grimaced. The cut was deep and probably would rip again, if left untreated. "I must look terrible," she said, rubbing off the dried blood. Emilia closed her eyes for a second, hoping that the dizziness would disappear. "I _feel_ terrible."

Severus stood there. He didn't say anything.

Looking up, she gave him an overview. "But, Severus, you're hurt too," she said quietly.. Her stomach lurched again, and she clutched the wall, nausea sweeping over her. She rolled her eyes back and closed. "I feel..." she stopped, and the felt the emptiness of her stomach dry heave. She clutched her stomach and fell to the floor, landing on all fours.

With one hand holding her stomach, and the other on the floor, she felt her elbow bend and start to slip away...she was caught before she fell onto the floor. Strong arms gripped her upper body. "No..." she murmured, her eyes still closed. "You have to...let me go..." Her stomach revolted again. But because she had not eaten, there was nothing for her to get rid of.

"What's the matter with me?" she croaked, clutching her stomach now with both hands. Severus held her out at arm's length. "God, I don't even think getting drunk had ever felt _this_ bad..." Her skin felt clammy and her heart was racing inside of her chest.

Severus's brow furrowed. He'd suspected foul play all along; from Lucius, anything is possible. He could have used anything...he knew, after all, that Lucius was downstairs in the Potions hallways because Voldemort was taken root in the Slytherin Common Room.

"I've got to get you help," he murmured softly. What could he do? His choices were very limited. The only thing he could think of was to get her to the Infirmary and see what Potions Madam Pomfrey kept around could help. Because it was direly obvious that she'd been poisoned by something of the sort; this violent reaction was probably the cause—however, he kept very few of those sort of Potions he kept in his keeps. And he had no idea which one was used.

"Emilia," he said, lifting her chin. Her eyes were fluttering open and closed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Emilia arched in his hold, and she started to gasp like she couldn't get enough air. The noises she tried to mouth were unintelligible. "Dear God," Severus said, breathing in deeply. Her body went rigid, then slack. She needed some medical attention and _quick_. He scooped her up in his arms, thankful that she was light, and took off at a quickened pace, running down the corridors that lead quickest to the Infirmary.

The Infirmary, or the Hospital Ward, was on the first floor in the back of the castle opposite the Great Hall. It was, everything considering, in the deepest part of the castle. Five floors down and numerous hallways winding to the Ward, he knew that he was traveling somewhere into the heart of the danger.

Severus barged into the Infirmary, swinging the door to it's very last hinge, and hoping to some unknown God that there be no danger in here. Seeing no one immediately, he rushed to a clean bed and set Emilia on it carefully, who was covered by a cold sweat. Occasionally, she'd start to gasp again, breathing in and out loudly. It was terrible to watch.

Severus made sure she was above the covers and she wouldn't wrap herself up when she had her episodes. Her skin was purple on the white sheets, and her lips were very puffy and red. Trying to remember what he'd seen before he'd saved her, how Lucius had his hands around her neck and her face—

"Severus," she croaked, the first thing she'd managed to say since they'd left the fifth floor. It was hard to move her lips, because they were so swollen, and she tried to say something else, which was lost in the gasps she tried to take.

He looked at her, seeing her helpless body racked with pain. She'd closed her eyes again. Then she lay still for a few minutes. Severus watched her, and made sure that she'd finally fallen into unconsciousness, and then moved swiftly to Madam Pomfrey's cabinets. Opening them up, he read the labels for the ailments they cured. Many of them were female problems, and then the ever familiar Skelegro, plus the Pepper-Up Potion he'd made either that year. Finally he saw poison antidotes. He moved the small bottles around, the liquids of blue, green and yellow splashing around in each bottle he moved. Severus sighed, getting frustrated. He hoped that it wouldn't be that they didn't have the anitidote. He shoved more bottles around in the cabinet. Severus saw that the antidote was not in the cabinet and moved on to the next one. He started to get anxious as he flung open the doors and shoved other labeled bottles around. Finally, he came upon the spot that it would most likely be in. He stared at he labels intently and read each lines quickly and carefully. Th, out of nowhere, in the back of the lot, he found the right one. It contined a red liquid and the label read, "_Miamic Mixture_."

The symptoms lent themselves to Miasmic Poisoning, and that was in the very back of his stores. Lucius must've looked for this...he'd only made a very small amount. 

And he made it only once.

Severus walked out to the main Ward where Emilia was lain, tossing and turning like something was consuming her. She was no longer unconscious anymore, now had woken up and was worse than ever. She made mouth motions of that she was screaming, but no noise came out. Emilia was gasping and crying, tears streaking her face mutely. It was a heartwrenching sight.

He sat on her bed and looked at her. She was thrashing about so badly that he was afraid that she'd knock the vile out of his hand. With a lot trouble, he held her down by crawling on the bed and putting a leg of either side of her, kneeling on top of her as one arm held her arms above her head.

Her mouth was obligingly open, gasping and wheezing for air, and with great difficulty he tipped the red liquid into her mouth. She gagged as it went down, and her entire body began to spasm. Severus was afraid that this was the wrong one for a brief second when suddenly, she went completely limp. His heart skipped a beat, but he stayed there for a moment, making sure she wouldn't lash out again, and when her eyes fluttered open, she was gazing wide eyed into Severus's face.

It took a moment for her eyes to focus, and then they opened wide in realization. "What the _hell_ do you think you are _doing_?" she screeched, noticing he was uncomfortably on top of her, stradling her body.

His hand went to her mouth, hoping that no one heard her outburst. "Emilia!" he said sharply, leaning in to her so that she'd hear clearly. "You fool! You'll tell the enemy where we are!"

Her eyes darted back and forth until finally she settled down, writhing under his hands. Severus uncovered her mouth, but held her there. He was deeply afraid that if he got up she'd beat the shit out of him.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked quietly

"Unfortunately," she muttered, her awareness becoming clearer and her face was going from purple to pale. Them, just as quickly, it was flushing red. God, _why_ was he on top of her like this? Didn't he know what he did to her?

And she thought being held by him in the dungeons was terrible. Looking up at him with a lot of difficulty, she muttered, "You mind...?"

"Oh," he said, and moved swiftly away from her, and standing up. A pink tinge danced around the outside of his cheeks. For some reason, this amused Emilia.

Emilia creeped to the edge of the bed, and stood herself. "Ugh," she said, holding her head in her hands. "God, what was that _shit_ you gave me?"

"Stuff to help you live," he snapped angrily. "Couldn't you be a little more grateful?"

"I could if the stuff you gave me didn't _kill_ me," she replied, just as angrily; she remembered all too well every potion he'd managed to give her and have it not work right. "My sense of taste is seriously fucked up, I'll tell you what."

"Wonderful. Remind me next time to let you die," Severus replied sarcastically, folding his arms. Emilia shot him a glare from across the bed, and felt herself start to get huffy.

"Enough," she said finally, spreading her arms out as she talked. "This really is getting childish."

"No shit," he replied bluntly.

Emilia gave him a sarcastic nod, curling her lips into a semi-scowl. "Fuck you too, Severus." She paused, sighed loudly, then continued. "Now that that's out of the way, I feel the _need _to kick some Death Eater ass before I start to get stir-crazy! I'm not quite sure how they managed to get inside here, but I think it's up to either you or I to solve the problem."

"So what do _you_ propose we do?" Severus said quietly, gesturing to her. His voice was dripping with disdainful sarcasm.

"Don't patronize me, Severus," she warned. "I can get very pissy when I'm tired."

"I can tell."

Emilia huffed. "What the hell is up with _you?_ I mean, every word that's come out of your mouth lately has been arrogant, sarcastic or patronizing. Can't you talk to me normally, _even_ when we are near death?"

"That would be out of my character," he replied simply, yet just as nastily. "Come on, let's go. I think I've figured a way to find Minerva."

"Have you now?" she muttered in an undertone.

Severus narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. They exited the Ward, and set off to find Minerva.

Before it was too late.


	21. Mysterious World

My god, it has been since forever since I updated. I mean, it's been at least a month, and I feel really bad for it, but school work and everything else…well, it's Thanksgiving, and now here are some updates to make you all smile and giggle with glee. No romance (yet); it is slightly inappropriate or _incongruous_ (a SAT word, hell yeah go me!) to place a snog scene in the middle of a fight to the death. So, not to say there is a fight to the death, but there will be. I have lots to update. This is just a teaser into the world beyond. In fact, I have until chapter twenty-six I think written for you all. So, enjoy this scene, not really to pertaining to the plot but since I don't know the plot or have any idea where it will end, I guess this really doesn't matter!

Thank you all for seeing and reviewing my story. It's been such help and a pleasure to read your entries and to take in all your comments, questions and suggestions. I am so pleased to write such wonderful tales of woe and worry, of suspense and supremacy that you must feel the need to comment. I really am pleased with it. Now, unless I get more people to stop in and say hello, I will have to start putting a limit like some authors do…ten more and then I'll update…JUST KIDDING! Well, maybe. I don't know. Next update: talking quickly to the people updating from 43 on. So, if you update, you'll get a little note in this with my reply. How sweet! Anyway, look forward to that. And also, look forward to my reply to the movie!

Read, review, and ON WITH THE SHOW…

Chapter Twenty-One: Mysterious World

"How much further until the next corridor?" Emilia whispered tersely.

"Not much," he replied snidely. "Why?"

"Oh," she said in a tone of mock airiness, "I didn't know if you wanted to hang around Death Eaters, but we could always wait until we're caught to move."

"Jesus, and you say that _I'm_ bad."

"What?"

"You're such a bitch sometimes."

"And damn proud of it."

"Shut up, I hear footsteps."

"What?"

"Shh-hh!" he said tersely, putting a finger to his lips. Emilia rolled her eyes, and they continued their way down the corridor and to the left. The settings were very tense, and the last thing she needed was to be caught—again—by Death Eaters. She'd had enough of them to last her five whole lifetimes.

"Minerva's in the Ravenclaw Common Room," he spoke finally, consulting his map. "I don't know _why_ though."

Emilia looked around the corner, and saw two black-hooded figures dragging someone across the hallway. "I don't know either, but we've come a bad way," she spoke, not looking at Severus, but at the Death Eaters down the hall. She turned back to him, feeling panic build up in her again.

"What?"

"Doesn't your little map say that there are two Death Eaters right there in front of us?" she replied haughtily.

"Yes, I know," he snapped testily. "We aren't going down _that_ way, though. Haven't you been to the Ravenclaw Common Room?"

"No, I haven't," she said, hearing the footsteps beyond. Emilia looked away, back to the oncoming Death Eaters. "But at least I—" She was interrupted by Severus grabbing her body and swinging her into a hallway inside the walls, before the Death Eaters passed, walking casually on the spot they were just standing.

"Warning, next time," she panted, catching her breath. She nearly had a heart attack—or worse, she could have screamed. Her heart was beating in her chest far faster than was healthy, and she glared at Severus, clutching her chest. "That was on purpose, wasn't it?"

"Maybe," he answered, smirking at her. "Come on, we have to go."

"Ain't this just convenient?" she said, putting one hand on her hip. "Everywhere we go there is a passage in the walls. I'm starting to think they aren't coincidences anymore."

"They aren't, you simple minded heathen," Severus answered sharply. "They were meant as quick routes to areas of trouble, and for the teachers to use to get throughout the school quietly and quickly. _That's_ why there are so any of them." He turned his back and whispered, "_Lumos_!"

Emilia flipped him off from behind, scowled, and pulled out her wand herself. Of course, it did make sense. Emilia went to school here for about seven years, and she never that there was any passages herself, save the ones that the caretaker used when he wanted to bust someone doing wrong. And, the way she was in school, she never got caught doing anything wrong; she just didn't really do anything. The school was closed her entire fifth year, and after that, they opened for her sixth and seventh year; she finished her schooling in France before tutoring abroad.

They reached the end of the short hallway and Emilia was curious to see what was around the corner. She turned her head out and Severus grabbed her back, roughly.

"Ow," she said without thinking. "What'd you do that for?"

"Shut up," he snarled, and stared at the wall for a few moments, concentrating. Emilia opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was doing, and then she heard it as well.

"_Where are they? I've been waiting ssso patiently, and I am ssso hungry..._" Emilia's heart froze. That was the voice she had heard earlier, the one sitting next to Lord Voldemort—which could mean only one thing—

Emilia turned to Severus, and he had put his finger on his lips, indicating that she should stay very silent. Emilia bit her lip, and tried not to tremble. Right now, she was closer to Lord Voldemort than she'd like to be—and they would have been killed if she looked over.

"_Masssster_..." it hissed. Emilia didn't even want to know what it was. All she knew was that she could understand it. And that alone was enough to weird her out.

"_Masster,_" it repeated, "_I sssmell sssomething delicciousss_..."

Her stomach plummeted. Could whatever it was smell them? She could hear Severus draw in a quick breath, and saw him pinch his lips. She waited anxiously, straining to hear the next words.

Severus's face was thoughtful for a moment, then he turned to Emilia. She looked back up at him, and saw his puzzled expression. What was the matter with _him_? 

She turned back to the thing that hissed, and heard its sniffing breaths though the wall. She tried to think about how it could smell them…it was, after all, through the wall... Then she remembered: she was wearing _perfume_...and that was the smell the creature had scented…

"Oh no," she whispered lightly. Severus gave her a hard look, and motioned for her to be quiet. She shook her head at him, and covered her mouth. God, she was such an idiot sometimes. The smell wasn't so predominant anymore, but still, there was enough there to be scented. The creature started to speak again.

"_It sssmellsss...from the wallssss..._"

_Shit!_ Her mind raced. Without even thinking, she started back into the corridor, and running backward down the hall whence they came. Severus rushed after her, and Emilia heard their footsteps clatter loudly in the corridor.

Emilia reached the other end of the passageway and then caught her breath. "What—what was that thing?" she panted.

"I don't know. Why did you run?" he asked, keeping his voice down, and yet still had an angry tone all the same.

"Didn't you hear what it had said?" Emilia replied sharply, sitting on the ground. She pulled off one show, and then the other. Emilia thought she could muffle some of the noise without her shoes on. She set them down on the floor near the entrance, which she hoped that she'd remember later. In fact, she knew she wasn't going to. Standing up, she reached into the pocket and tore off a bit of parchment and took out the pen she'd used earlier, writing a note.

Severus watched her. "Well, no. I have no idea what that hissing noise was all about. Obviously, _you_ must have. Care to explain, or do you just like leaving me in the dark?"

"The latter," she said, finishing up her note and shoving the lot into the pocket. 

"Now that I'm sure we are on our way to being caught—" Emilia gave him a haughty look "—do you think that your Majesty would want to try going back down there again?

"Because, as much as I like this bonding time of ours," Severus drawled on sarcastically, glaring at her, "I would also like to know what the hell is going on. Why did you just up and run—loudly, I might add—to the other end of the hall for no reason?"

"Because, Severus, that thing could smell us through the walls. If we stayed there, we would have gotten caught anyway. I figured that you might wager a few more hours of being alive. Now, unless you have another brilliant idea to get to the Ravenclaw dormitories, I am anxious to get this done so I can hopefully get some well-deserved sleep."

Severus scowled, not answering, and turned to walk down the other way. Emilia noticed he proceeded stealthily. She followed him quietly, not pursuing anymore conversation.

They were halfway through the passageway, listening intently for any more signs of Lord Voldemort and his pet, which Emilia dubbed silently, "The Thing that Hisses," when suddenly she felt something tingle on her head.

Reaching up and feeling her head, she felt a warmth tickle down onto her fingers. Looking down and catching Severus's wandlight, she saw that it was red.

Blood.

"_Fuck,_" she whispered. She didn't remember hitting her head on anything.

Severus turned around at her outburst. He saw the blood and his eyes opened wide. Her hand was covered with red as well as the side of her face, which was starting to trickle faster down her cheek down to her chin.

"What did you _do_?" Severus said. Assessing the situation, he lifted up his robe and ripped off a strip of it. The bleeding needed to be stopped. 

"I...I don't know..." she said, starting to feel panicky. Before, it was just that maybe she's hit something, but there was a lot of blood. But the blood felt slightly off temperature.

Her head didn't hurt either. Not like it should. Her sixth sense started to feel out. Something wasn't right.

Severus glanced at Emilia's distraught face, which was more confused than in pain. "Emilia, how does your head feel?" He was afraid she's go into shock or something. Perhaps it was a subdermal hematoma, he thought quickly.

"Fine," she replied. "Oddly enough, fine."

"Then what the—" Severus tried to say, then stopped, both of them realizing something at the same time. The two of them looked up, Emilia feeling the warm sensation again on her head.

In a hole above them, there hung a dead body, its blood dripping down.

And protruding from the wound above, a set of fangs.


	22. Fear To Die

AN: Ah, I'm getting into the spirit! More for you all to see and read. And I can't imagine how pleased you all must be (hint of sarcasm, anyone?) Anyway, quickly, this chapter is about the END of this entire thing (how long did this drag out for, eh?) and then the next chapter is sad. You will all probably hate me, but hey, you can either take it or leave it. I think it's pretty good. Ate too much Thanksgiving dinner…gak.

About the movie now. I absolutely loved the second movie. I've seen it twice (and seeing it again on Saturday). The first time was great. Margaret and Erica and I—er, I mean my friends, of course—we all kept screaming and giggling at wooing at the screen. Plus, on a side note, we kept yelling sexual innuendoes at the screen whilst we were surrounded by five year olds (hey, we were there for us. I'm sixteen, what do you expect? g). Anyway, the second movie was far better but the phoenix sucked. I'm sorry, it was a creepy thing, and I was waiting for it to start having its head spin and spewing green pea soup saying "Jesus fuck me" like an exorcist tribute. I dunno, the bird was weird. Also, it reminded me of that dodo bird from the Flintstones—the one with John Goodman. Haha. Anyway, the movie was great. I love Lucius Malfoy but HOW DARE THEY destroy him like that?! I mean, his hair…his hair…I needed it to be short and slicked back. He needed to be an adult Draco. I mean, Lucius is one sexy piece of man, so why wasn't he happily sexy?! And the FUCKING BOW!! What was with the bow? Anyway, they took out my two favorite parts, so I'm mad, but I understand the rest of the movie. The Dueling Scene was the best. Who knew the Voice of God looked so good with a wand?

Chapter Twenty-Two: Fear to Die

"_Oh my god_," Emilia screamed, backing up and pressing herself against the wall, never looking anywhere but the dead body. Her mouth hung open, and so far open it was in pain. She couldn't tell who it was, but she didn't want to know.

The body, however, was dismantled, mauled, dismembered and practically disemboweled. Severus moved away, holding out his wand. "Holy _shit,_" he swore. The thing with the fangs wasn't alive. On a second look, it was a shell of an emerged being, which had seemed to come from the inside of the body.

Emilia hold her hand up to her mouth. What was it that had been inside there? Was it another of those hissing beings? The skin looked like the body of the snake-like thing in the Slytherin Common room that she briefly saw: long, slim body with huge fangs.

All Emilia could focus on was not vomiting as she stood there. Without thinking, she started to run—run far away from the dead body. How could they have not seen it before? They'd been through there not once but three times!

She brushed by Severus, and felt tears mingle with the blood that had started to dry. God, she was so tired of seeing dead bodies, and killing people, and seeing nothing but misery and horror and death...

She couldn't contain herself. Stopping in the hall, Emilia crouched down, holding her head, and tried to compose herself. She was tired of it all, and she wanted to be out of there. Out of here, she thought to add. Emilia was tired of saving people and having to bear the weight of responsibility that had come with this long, progressive night (which, in actuality, was mid morning by now). Emilia was just plain exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Emilia?" a voice down the hall said. God just what she needed now—Severus to make his asshole remark about how she looked or how she was crying, like she couldn't do any better. Well, she was on the edge, being tired and hungry; Emilia deserved a good cry, didn't she?

Severus's wandlight lighted both sides of her. He was standing behind her. "Emilia?" he asked cautiously.

She stood up, but didn't turn around. "Severus?" she said, her voice shaking. She wiped back the tears and took a deep breath. She tilted her head to the side, and let out a sigh. "Sorry. But, I've been thinking; this is where the last time that creature must have gotten food. They know about this passage. We ought to move, before Lord Voldemort sends his troops in."

Severus nodded. "Fine then," he said, in a tone that meant the conversation was done. Emilia could tell that he was just as weird out as she was.

And then they continued forth.

Reaching the Ravenclaw room, Emilia saw the door pried open. Stepping inside, they noticed that there was no one in the room. "Severus?" she said, peering inside the room.

"What?" he replied, rather snappishly. Emilia could feel the tension. But he didn't have to be an asshole about it.

Suddenly, there was a jolt, sending the floor shaking. Emilia tumbled off balance, and to steady herself she gripped Severus's arm. "What was that?" she cried, searching around quickly.

They entered Ravenclaw entranceway, which was a jumble of debris and broken glass. Stone chunks were among a color scheme of blue and white.

She saw through the window of the Ravenclaw room that the sky got only darker, except this time even the snow couldn't lighten the air. And then, a rush of black figures stormed out of the castle. Each of them were pouring out of different entrances, and each were running quite fast away from the castle. Smoke was drifting out of the castle windows on the first floor.

"There has been an explosion!" Emilia yelped, speaking the obvious, and ran to the window, leaning over the edge of the stone. "Oh my god, there's a hole in the castle wall!" She pointed.

Severus had run up next to her. "Voldemort is still here, though," he said solemnly, resting on hand precariously on the sill. He looked down, careful to remain in the shadows a bit. The Death Eaters were still in sight, though many of them that had poured out of earlier had gotten far enough away to Apparate.

Emilia looked over at him. She saw the hatred, the malevolence in his countenance; the anger sweeping through his dark eyes and smooth contours of his skin. She then realized that they were in a lot of trouble.

She glanced back at the smoke, and felt a sense of impending doom. "We probably ought to get going then," she spoke softly, staring at the black smoke and the lapping flames.

"Where, of course, is the question," a silky voice replied.

Both of them whipped their heads around to see the vivid white face and red eyes of Lord Voldemort. Around his neck was a creature that was long and slim—a snake-like creature, the one that Emilia had been hearing all along.

Severus clenched his fists, but never moved from his spot. Emilia on the other hand moved forward, not daring to pull out any weapon. She glared at him with contempt.

"Ah, but it is a pity that I have met the both of you," he said smoothly, "and have the pleasure of killing you both." Emilia noticed that he was alone.

"I do not think so yet," Severus replied cautiously, relaxing his posture and preparing to fight. Emilia could only see him out of the corner of her eye, but could tell that if he was nervous, he wasn't showing it.

"Big words from someone who cannot hurt me, Severus," Voldemort replied nastily, walking in further to the room. He guided himself over the debris, the black robe covering his head and feet. It was like a black shadow with the pale face of death moving across the room.

Severus left no emotion on his face, but Emilia couldn't help herself. She glared at him. "You can't win, you heartless bastard. You will die, just like the rest of them."

"Like your father?" he replied. Emilia narrowed her eyes. "Ah yes, well, that order couldn't be helped. Even as loyal as he was, he bred such a...furious...and angry girl..." Voldemort walked over and stood directly in front of her, looking into her flushed face. "I could have used your sense of loyalty, but obviously my acts to persuade you did not work..." Voldemort smiled thinly. "Instead of hating the Ministry, now you appear to—what's the word? Advocate? Perhaps. You advocate the Ministry of Magic. And I thought you could sink no lower. I had to give you credit though. After all, you were a Black."

Slightly dazed at what he had said, but not completely unaware, Emilia blinked. She was angry, she reached up to slap him, but he caught her hand. "Now, now," he said, gripping her hand in place with his long spindly fingers, "we can't have any of that." He twisted her arm back further than natural, causing Emilia to wince and try to move out of the position, struggling and squirming. Severus stepped forward.

Voldemort let go of her, and Emilia recoiled, bringing her arm back and holding it. "Severus, have you not taught her to bite her tongue?" Severus turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes and glaring contemptuously, clearly loosing his patience.

Emilia stepped back, so that she was against the wall. "I cannot stress how much you two mean to me," Voldemort drawled, closing his eyes, and sighing. "Although preferably dead."

He took out his wand. Twirling it between his fingers, he addressed himself to Severus. "Now, what shall I do to the disloyal?"

"You could try to smoke them out," Severus replied venomously, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Voldemort smiled. "Have you had fun this past night, Severus? I have let you live this long—" he extended his wand at Severus, "however, no longer do I require you."

Severus, in one quick, swift movement, had his wand out from his robes. Pointing it at the ceiling, in slightly exaggerated movements, he shouted, "_Reducto!_" The ceiling tumbled in—Voldemort was covered in dust and dirt—Emilia could hear the sputtering coughs—

"Run!" he cried, and grabbed Emilia's arm, dragging her through the dust. They exited the room and fled all the way down the corridor, to hear the shrieks of Voldemort from the Ravenclaw room.

Heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, Emilia tried to keep up with Severus as he led her though many corridors and down to the main entrance on in the middle of the floor, fleeing down the marble stairs covered in red carpets.

Continuing to run, Emilia and Severus dashed to the main staircase and down three, four flights of stairs, before they even began to slow up. When they had reached the main entrance, and still no sight of anyone, they stopped. Emilia yanked her arm away.

"What was that?" she panted, doubling over. "We could have killed him!"

"No, we couldn't," Severus replied, equally out of breath. He stood upright. "We cannot stay here."

"No, you cannot."

"What?" Emilia said, looking up. For the first time she had noticed all those people there. Dressed in black robes with special lettering on their back, they moved quickly into the building. The Ministry had arrived—finally.

"Move! Move!" they cried, filling in. Emilia moved away from them, toward Severus. The Ministry Aurors moved all around, up the stairs and through the halls. Emilia watched in amazement as they moved about quickly. One of them came over to assess their situation.

"Where is he?" A man of thirty or so said, with dark hair and hardened features. He looked rather brutish, with a bowl haircut and a lot of bulky muscles underneath his robes.

Emilia was slightly afraid of him, and looked up at Severus. He spoke evenly to the Auror, "Ravenclaw Common Room, third floor, fifth picture from the right." The man nodded, and sent his crew up.

Another man dressed his white robes walked over to them. "Ma'am, your head is bleeding," he spoke kindly observing her status. "Please, come this way." The man started to walk away, and Emilia followed him. Severus was not far after her.

The man, who'd introduced himself as Owen, led her to a small patchwork of people, standing outside and communicating with those infiltrating the inside. The groups were under a tree, with tables of equipment set up. There were other white robed men, all gathered in one place, taking care of many students and faculty. Emilia noticed that none of those were from Hufflepuff, or that of Gryffindor.

After he had had her seated and addressed her so-called "wound," wrapping white gauze around her head from the other traumas of that day, Emilia was discharged. Soon, the Aurors brought out more students. Minerva was amongst them.

"Emilia!" she cried. Severus, who had been standing next to her and checking her head bandaging, moved slightly away, and looked upwards. Minerva walked up. She was cut and bruised, much like Lucius had appeared to earlier. She, however, was in decent health.

Minerva wanted to know what had happened to her, and Emilia explained it as easily as she could. All she wanted to do was sleep, though, so she wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying.

Before long, everyone had been moved out of the castle and Reconstruction Crews were moving in, magically moving debris and fixing the explosion. After that, the walls started to look normal again, but the coldness and snow to the people who did not have any layers on—and most of them did not—were started to feel the cold settle in, even as much as the Mediwizards tried to prevent it.

The next three hours passed, and Emilia sat dazed on the table next to Severus, who was sitting close next to her. Eventually, she nodded off, laying her head on his shoulder and falling asleep.

Next thing she knew, Severus was nudging her gently awake. "Emilia, they are letting us back in," he said, moving away and letting Emilia fall freely onto the table. She caught herself late, and slammed against the table, which woke her up quickly. She sat up, and looked around. The school looked just well as new, and everything had a slightly magical glow to it. Dumbledore, among other teachers, were telling them to move into the Great Hall. Everyone was moving in stiffly and loudly—equally exhausted, as they were awake.

Severus was far ahead of her, and Minerva was no where to be found. So, rubbing the sleep from her face and stretching a little bit, she started to walk in. The ordeal was finally over.


	23. The View

AN: Hello there ready-made friends! I have just come to collect my please and thank yous, and of course, the rest. It's been a while. This chapter is very, very, very sad, and I apologize for this. I have some other chapters written, and soon I shall post those. BTW, LoTR is a kick ass movie. See it. ^^ And guess what I got my mum for Christmas…Sense and Sensibilty. What a wonderful movie. I think Alan Rickman is awesome. Besides the fact he was chasing after Kate Winslet, of all people…^^;

Just a quick note, one of my favorite things to do online is to look at Yahoo! Movies and see how many people have starred together. Now I want to rent a shit load of movies. One, for instance, is the HBO special _Rasputin_ because it had Alan Rickman and Ian Mckellen in it. Also, something with Winter in it, because both Sean Biggerstaff was in it with Alan Rickman. Cool, eh? Elijah Wood had partnered up w/ Robbie Coltraine in Huck Finn from Disney, and…lo and behold, for that "I found him" footage from David Copperfield w/ Daniel Radcliffe, also starred with Maggie Smith (Prof. McGonagall) and Madame Hooch (her name is Zoee Wana…something, I'm too lazy to find her last name, and her first name is spelled right. I'm just too lazy to find the key for the umlaut and the umlaut is that vowel plus "e" so…take my word, that's her name w/out the umlaut.)

PS: go and listen to the X/1999 CD (from the tv show authored by CLAMP). It is the best soundtrack ever.

Chapter Twenty-Three: The View

Emilia walked into the Great Hall. People were filing into the tables. She saw many gaps within the tables, and many tears were being shed. It had been a long night, and everyone had been effected. Emilia felt tears well up in her eyes as she heard familiar shouts of worry—where had this person gone of to? Where was this person—had they died, or worse? It reminded her of Parvati Patil, the first thought of her since she'd left the Gryffindors in the Hufflepuff Common Room.

She tried to walk to her seat, and gazed across the room tiredly as she walked. Groups of people were huddled together, not daring to let one of their members leave. She passed three Aurors talking to Dumbledore. She paused, and stood next to the older man, listening in intently.

"—He was gone before we could reach the last spot he was confirmed in," one of the Aurors was saying. "He's still on the loose."

Dumbledore's face grew weary. "I do not think he is in the castle, and I do not think he will visit so soon. Many of his number were lost."

"We found thirty seven confirmed killed Death Eaters," the Auror continued. "And—I'm sorry to announce this…"

"I know there were many students who were killed," Dumbledore said, after the silence. "Please, tell me your rough estimate."

Sadly, the Auror finished. "There was forty three students, and three teachers lost in this fight."

"Forty four," Emilia added quietly, tears threatening to overflow. Forty-four students! That's nearly an entire house. However, it was the first time that Dumbledore noticed she was there. With tears in her eyes, she tried to continue. "One of them is held by magic with Lavender Brown." She couldn't look up into his face.

Dumbledore gave her a morose look. "Emilia…"

She hung her head and walked away. Pulling up her seat, she sat next to Severus and McGonagall, who'd changed her clothes and was looking rather refreshed. Severus, on the other hand, in his dirty and ripped robes, looked very sour indeed.

"Why can't we just ship these...children...up to their dormitories where they can be miserable there? If I hear one more word about those who are dead, I think I'm going to kill _myself_," he muttered into his hands, which he was resting his chin on.

Emilia swallowed the lump in her throat. The ordeal was finally over. After nearly sixteen hours of terror, death and destruction, that was all Severus Snape had to say.

It made Emilia angry. After finding out the true standing of the castle, the amount of bodies they had to drag out, and having her nerves at a split end, she was feeling rather anxious and upset.

"Well, if you should think so, don't spare us the trouble of stopping you. Don't tease us by saying you'd like to kill yourself and then not," Emilia said irritably, waving her hand around and then resting her cheek on it.

Severus looked abashed, but recovered quickly and smoothly. "Ah, the good old Black wit—or at least, half of it," replied Severus snidely.

"Oh, very funny, Severus. I should like to congratulate you on a very good come back, although—"

At that moment, Dumbledore took his seat and Emilia shut up, looking down into her lap. Fighting with Severus, as fun-filled it was, wasn't prudent now with Dumbledore here. Severus leaned back in his seat and relaxed, clearly thinking he won. However, his countenance was perturbed as soon as he saw Dumbledore's face.

Dumbledore murmured something to Minerva and then stood. "Excuse me," he said, barely audible, and yet the entire school quieted down at once. All heads were turned to the front. No one dared to speak.

"As you all well know, we had a huge amount of trouble within our castle walls late last night and into much of today. To amend the rumors, I shall clear up any of your questions—I shall hold no truth back, and tell no lie.

"Lord Voldemort was here, within these walls, and so were many of his followers. They killed many of our number, including Professor Sinistra, Professor Hallows, and Professor Flitwick—the head of Ravenclaw house."

A huge gasp rushed through the room like a cold wind, and Emilia could feel the prickles on her back. Professor Flitwick was one of the three? And just last night, the small dwarf like teacher was dancing and dangling his feet sitting in the chairs at the Yule Ball.

Emilia felt tears well up in her eyes. Even though she was not close to him, hearing the loss didn't make it any easier to bear what had happened the night before. She was still tired, because her nerves were wore thin, the tears started to stain her dirty face. Burying her face in her hands, she wept silently. How—_why_—did this happen? So many people were dead, and many missing from their number. What was the castle to do?

"I understand the horror of the night's events," Dumbledore was saying when Emilia returned her attention to him. "And I think that the best way to overcome the challenges of loss is to let your feelings out. Please, don't hesitate to talk to one another or one of us—" he motioned to the faculty. Severus looked like the first person to have a heart to heart conversation with him would be force fed poison. "And if you feel the need to take a leave of absence, then I will allow it. However, the worst way to cope is to dwell on the feelings of remorse and anxiety, and therefore classes will only be canceled until next Wednesday. A sense of normalcy must return to this school.

"Lastly, and I must stress this again, any questions that you may have—any at all—please, ask them. The worst kind of questions are those left unasked." He paused for a second. "I am now going to put breakfast on the table, and then I would like you all to return to your dormitories." Dumbledore gave one last lingering look at his students, and sat down.

He looked wearier than ever. Emilia then saw his commitment to the school, the students and the faculty all rolled into one. He was tired both physically and mentally, like she, but even more so. It hurt her heart to see such a sight.

Food appeared on the table and despite how ravenous she was, the upset of her stomach told her that it would be most unfortunate if she were to eat. Forcing herself slowly, she took small helpings and busied herself with eating.

Emilia noticed that Severus was somber and more rueful than she'd ever seen him. As well as Minerva, who had heard the shock of Flitwick and took it quite a bit hard. She had her lips pierced so that they were whiter than snow and her hand was shaking. Clearly, she was trying not to cry.

The other teachers—what those were left of—were just as weary and morose. The school, usually buzzing with chatter, was in murmured reserved silence and Emilia immediately thought of a funeral home. It was eerie and unsettling. So, when she finished her meal, she stood and excused herself, leaving the unhappiness of the Great Hall for the revered silence of someplace else.

She walked away from the table, and walked around the castle for a while, her arms across her chest. Emilia was tired, sick and ill; the food, though it forcibly went down, was disagreeing with her.

Soon, when she had circled around and came back to the Great Hall—noticing that the castle, though perfectly replaced, showed signs of permanent destruction—and saw that it was empty. The students were walking up the stairs full of distress and sadness, and all of them were walking slowly. She stood there, watching them leave from a distance. It was very depressing. Occasionally, a girl would let out a muffled cry and then there would be a chorus of small sobs near her.

Emilia's eyes swept to the other corner. Severus had just walked out of the castle, weary, even though he still appeared young.

Emilia gasped inwardly. How could she have forgotten about their appearances? That would need to be fixed. And that was she was concerned about before all this started...

Emilia had a sudden thought. She was still, of course, curious to know how the Death Eaters managed to cover so much ground and so quickly—but what if they were in the castle before? What if—what if the "bubble" was their entrance in, and by popping it set up their access as a distraction? Because, most certainly, it was distracting enough to create a situation to help their infiltration.

She was enlightened with this, and immediately made a mental note of it to herself. She would have to mention it to someone and have it looked at. However, putting her hands in her pockets, she walked over to Severus and stood next to him silently. "Aren't you tired yet?"

"No, I love staying awake this long," he said irritably. "One of my more favorite things to do."

"_Geez-us!_" Emilia said, exasperated. "Fine, forget it." She was tired, too, and way to tired to give a shit to what Severus was saying. She needed some sleep and she needed some alone time.

She turned on her heel to walk away and go upstairs. Something caught her wrist though. Turning around, she saw Severus shaking his head. "God, you are so _sensitive_," he said, making a sound under his tongue this indicated his resentment and annoyance. "You'd think you'd be used to this by now." He let go of her wrist.

Emilia looked at him. "I'm too fucking tired, Severus." She paused. Tears started to well in her eyes. She wiped her grimy face with the back of her hands, trying to mask the tears. Without warning, they blurred her vision. She could understand why, but she couldn't get them to stop. "Um," she said, her throat aching from trying to stop crying, "I...I need some sleep."

Severus gave her a curious look. He opened his mouth to say something but Emilia interrupted him.

"I'm sorry, Severus, I just need to go," she said, turning around and running up the stairs. It bothered her that she could be so vulnerable and so...weak...like that. Of course, she couldn't ever forgive herself if she ever cried in front of Severus, breaking down like that. In a blur, she ran upstairs to her room. To sleep, never to wake—at least, for a while.

~!-------!~

Everyone is like: dear god, she's gonna thank people.

Yes, I am. This is the first time I've decided to do this, and I want to apologize to those of you that I have to unfortunately leave out because there are too many people to thank.

But, starting from reviewer 41 and up, here are my replies…

MaeNoelle/the Muses: Thank you soo much for reading my story. I really love your reviews. And the emails. My buddy! And your story is kick ass. Shameless promoting: read her story too, "Messing with History." And good thing I can write war like scenes. Because I sure as hell am having problems with the g-d romance.

Nataly Ravenlock: you're one of my best buds…^^ My special someone. And yet somehow we manage to do an OC/Snape story completely random and not even consulting each other. My, how small the world is. Thank you for reviewing, though they could be a little more insightful, Nataly…lol. Just kidding. And plus, you've helped me to develop what little sense of Alan Rickman-love we share. Ah…Colonel Brandon…

Green Opus: Thank you for reading. And I find that a good story needs a sit through. Besides, what I write is…truly…not planned. Like Emilia's father's death? Hey, that was totally out of no where. But the urge to add lyrics is rising. I hate when people do that though…or add _entire _songs…le grrr…but I don't know if what I write is inspiring, but thank you for your comment (blushes). Now I feel all flattered…

Sharkbait: I do thank the Muses for sending you to me. And thank you for your…energetic…review. I hope it's not every few paragraphs. I try to usually filter it out. But I apologize. In fact, it took me sixteen re-reads to find that the first paragraph had mistakes! Besides, I don't have a beta (that's an excuse) but usually I'm anally retentive of the mistakes. Oh well.

Vespertilios-Flower: I do try to update often, but I carry a lot of hard courses in school that require my attention (like honors English, AP Chem and AP American History) so if I do not update, it's because I have no time. And I really don't. Plus, my computer was out of use over x-mas break, due to dad playing w/ the bios chips. But I will try to update often. Try to get more people to review! Then I might update more.

A Reviewer: Thank you for your kind update. Sometimes they do get mushy (like one of the ones I just read…^^;) but I like him bastardly. So he is. And Emilia is not one to be "flimpsy" either. They just bounce off each other nicely. But in the coming-up chapter 25, tell me if it got mushy. I tried not to make it that way.

And they you go! 10 reviewers all replied! And please, REVIEW FOR THE LOVE OF SNAPE!

~thank you~

Kary


	24. The Rose of Pursuit

AN: Welcome to the next rendition (sp?) of Black Prospects. I apoligize for any spelling errors, due to the fact that apparently, the word I am using on Windows XP is like, spelling challenged or something. Anyhoos, um, YES YES YES the book IS FINALLY COMING OUT in JUNE 21! YAY! So, like, I'm all heppy and such. Heppy, being from Robin Hood Men in Tights. Anyway, some recommendations: go see Chicago, that is an awesome movie. DON'T SEE QUILLS. You will fear for your mortal life. And forever be the image of Michael Caine be etched into your memory.OH dear god.and Donnie Darco is an awesome movie. Makes ya think. My Fair Lady is the best movie out there but much more fun to read the script. Um, that's it for right now. GO AND LISTEN TO THE PRODUCERS.Josie, you know what I be talking about. The Producers.ahh, keep it gay, Nathan Lane, keep it gay. And what the hell, here are random disclosures: I don't own it. Lala. Just the plot, which, if I ever decide to have one, I will own that. And Emilia. Who, just as a reminder, looks like Evie from the Mummy. But I don't own Harry Potter. PS: GUESS WHO GOT HARRY POTTER BED SHEETS? Damn straight, I did.  
  
CHAPTER TITLE: It is stupid, yes I know, because the fact I nabbed the words from rauchy housewife novels tells me so.  
  
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Rose of Pursuit  
  
It took many hours of sleep for the ordeal to be even conquered. Meals were spasmodic for the rest of the vacation, and there were constant sob fits in the hall that made Emilia feel like she ought to cry along with them. Suppressing all the emotions did work over the years but never did she ever expect such a terrible tribulation to occur at Hogwarts.  
  
She hardly saw Severus at all, except when passing by to pick up a bite to eat in the Great Hall. Emilia felt that the only person who could ever understand her was him, after she had realized a great deal about him over the course of the night.  
  
When she walked into her room carrying a piece of toast and a cup of tea one morning, Emilia stood by the door and looked into her room with a revelation-istic feeling. She set her cup down on the table and finished eating the toast. Her room was immaculate, and showed no sign of a living person in there. She felt very lonely all of a sudden, because she realized how very cold and non-existent she really was.  
  
Last weekend showed her that she really did need people to survive, and that she couldn't make it on her own. Somehow, before she came here, it would have made her resolve to be more self-sufficient, like she had been for the last ten years. She learned how to do this rather easily, seeing as both her parents had been gone since she'd graduated. Emilia managed to make enough money to support her though the last couple of years, since she stopped being a tutor and a governess. She never got close to anyone, for fear that they'd die or be taken away-much like her own parents. But, though she went throughout her years traveling abroad, learning a couple languages fluently, she still found the loneliness comforting, something dependable.  
  
Ever since the school year had started, she'd been bickering endlessly with Severus Snape, a man of which she saw a sense of anger and loneliness, much like her own situation. Last night, if anything, had proven this true.  
  
Because Severus had once been a Death Eater, he had a mark on him that no amount of anything could ever rinse off or wash away. It was a mark of death; a mark of once was and hopefully would never be. Emilia saw this as a sign of strength-she knew all about the Death Eater initiation- but Severus obviously saw this as a sign of weakness, that he could not fight them.  
  
She could sympathize with this. When she was sixteen, and her father had yet to be captured, she went home for the holidays and was asked if she wanted to meet Voldemort. Her father's face was so inviting, so trustful, that she couldn't say no. Besides, it was before Voldemort had risen, and she did not know quite what to expect. When she had met him, he did not look the way he did then. He was almost human, and he was very cunning, sharp, and charming. He was always looking for women to initiate. Though Emilia refused him, her father did not have too much of a problem. She always loved him for that. He never pressed her to join.  
  
And she saw the same thing in Severus. Although she did not know the circumstances around his membership, she could automatically figure that Severus chose to be in it, and then changed his mind for some reason halfway though. Emilia wished her father had switched halfway through. But instead, he kept it up and was captured at a Muggle raid. Ever since his first capture, he had been in and out of Azkaban. Luckily, he was very wealthy and prestigious that no one dared say anything poorly about him. Despite all this, apparently, she was a free for all. Especially since the last time he was caught.  
  
But Voldemort, though she'd met him only once and then again last night, was something that she almost feared more than anything else. Emilia was tired and sick by then of trying to save the world, the school, the people...she was not ready at all for what then happened. She was slightly glad, for once in her life, that Severus gave her an excuse to be a coward.  
  
"We could have killed him!" she had said fretfully. He did not think so. Certainly, he knew better, but he had helped Voldemort unconsciously to escape. He could do that to some other school, and kill more people, all because Severus didn't think they could kill him. Emilia was more than willing to risk her life to prove different. She would have died to save this school and kill Voldemort, rather than save her life cowardly and let him live.  
  
Besides that, his attitude, his take-charge demeanor and his dark, brooding, unknown side was unsurpassably scary. Severus had a domineering ability that she found intriguing but he himself, like she, was so cold and distant. She never could guess what he was going to do.  
  
Emilia sat down at her table, and buried her head in her hands. She really was lonely. She could have talked to Minerva, but she was gone, talking to the families as the Deputy Headmistress. Emilia could have talked to Severus, but to be perfectly honest, every time she thought of him she couldn't help thinking about what had happened. Even though they did escape instead of fighting Voldemort, she still admired him.  
  
She admired him because Emilia saw that he saved their lives, and possibly many more. Emilia knew that Severus was slightly a kinship to her, and that she shouldn't-wouldn't is more like it-let him go. For the first time that year, she wanted to be more to him than a casual bickering acquaintance, or at least not be bothered by such.  
  
It was comforting then, at least. She took a sip from her tea, which was warm but just barely. Drinking it all in one sip, she set the cup down and sighed. She needed to get out of this depressed and sad state. She needed to do something.  
  
Finally, realizing there was nothing better to do, Emilia plucked up the courage and walked herself down to the dungeons where his office was and knocked cautiously on the door three times. There was no answer from inside.  
  
"Must not be here," she said out loud, and turned to walk away. She saw that Severus was standing behind her.  
  
"Yes?" he said. "Do you always talk to yourself out loud?"  
  
"Of course," she replied stoutly. "It's always fun-especially when I argue with myself." The sarcasm wasn't lost on him; he gave her a withering look.  
  
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Severus said, taking out a ring of keys from the inside of his robes. Picking out a huge gold key, he stuck it in the door and opened it. "Well, what do you want to talk to me about?"  
  
"Oh, just to talk. I was feeling a bit lonely and I was looking for some company to bicker with. Looks like I found it," Emilia replied, following Severus into the room.  
  
She passed by a bookshelf with a lot of huge, heavy books inside. But that is not what she first noticed. Because the light in the room was dimmer around the glass, she caught her reflection. She looked at her reflection, and gasped.  
  
"What?" Severus said, moving things around on his desk.  
  
She couldn't believe it. "Oh my god!" she cried out, touched her face. She looked like her old self again-or at least, close to it! Nearly back to the good old twenty-seven! Emilia guestimated at about twenty-four. She could drink! She took a quick look at Severus, who still-though Emilia grinned inside somewhere, she knew-looked the same...just a little older.  
  
"What are you going on about?" he said irritably, shuffling papers from behind his desk. "If you don't care to tell, then please tell me what you wanted and leave." Severus sighed pointedly, looking up at her in mid shuffle.  
  
She smiled at him. "I'm back to me! Good old me-or at least, pretty damn close! This is the best thing that has happened to me since...well...I don't know when. It's been shitty the last couple of days, anything seems better than before, you know? It's just..." she paused, and looked intently at his face. He wore a shocked expression and he was almost angry...or something. Emilia couldn't put the expression into words. "What's the matter?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing," Severus said, looking down into his papers and reshuffling them slowly, moving things around on his desk.  
  
She turned herself completely around. "Severus?" she asked cautiously. She walked to the front of his desk, and looked intently at him. Emilia resisted a sigh of contempt. He was starting to anger her.  
  
Severus didn't answer. Emilia rolled her eyes and took in a deep breath. The thought about him being a Death Eater entered her mind. She was suddenly curious and decided to ask him, on impulse. No better time than now. "There was something I did wish to ask you," she said. "It's about something that I almost did myself."  
  
"What?" he said.  
  
"Can we sit down?" she asked. He motioned to the couch and the chairs near the fireplace. Severus pointed his wand at the fireplace and immediately a roaring fire leapt to life.  
  
Walking out from behind his desk, he sat down on the green upholstered chair and looked up expectantly at her. Emilia walked carefully to the couch and sat nearest him. Emilia knew she would regret asking him this, but she needed to know.  
  
"Why did you join the Death Eaters and then quit?" she blurted out. Emilia was never one for subtleties. She folded her hands in her lap, and glanced at him.  
  
He let out a loud sigh. "I always knew in the back of my mind that you would want to ask me this," Severus said. He didn't sound angry. Emilia breathed a little easier. "And I always thought I would be ready, but I'm not, and I don't know if I would want to mention anything to you."  
  
Emilia furrowed her brow. "It's not like I would tell anyone," she protested.  
  
Severus held up his hand. "No, I would never think that. Admist your vein looks, your incompetence and your search for the answers to life, I doubt you'd ever break the trust of anyone," said Severus sarcastically.  
  
"I don't know whether to be flattered or angry," replied Emilia, narrowing her eyes. "And, it's not good etiquette to use your entire vocabulary in one sentence."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, settling back into his chair. "Anyway, I don't know where to begin. And what do you mean that you yourself almost did? Certainly, you didn't seriously consider becoming a Death Eater?"  
  
"I didn't know what I was getting into. My father asked me to see this lord, Voldemort, and I couldn't say no. It was before that he had risen, and I didn't know what to expect." She paused.  
  
Severus looked at her expectantly. She shifted uncomfortably. "What? I didn't join, end of story. My dad shut up about it, and didn't ask me about it ever again. To which I am thankful," she added.  
  
He gave her a grim smile. "Wish my story was so easy to tell," he said.  
  
"I can only give guesses from my view," Emilia offered. "I am guessing Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
Raising the corner of his lips in a small smirk, he said, "Good guess." Then he rested his hands across the arms of the chair. "Though, I must admit, it was not simply all him. It was partially me."  
  
Emilia looked at him intensely. "When I turned seventeen, Voldemort was at his height. Fully out in the open, and ready to take control of the government through any means necessary. Lucius Malfoy sought me out, and asked if I wanted to taste power and be relinquished from the daily grinds of my new job, which was a researcher for the Ministry. I agreed, though reluctantly-Lucius was never one to be denied," he said bitterly. "However, after I was initiated, I had to do something that I never care to repeat and nor will I; then afterwards, I felt so poorly about it..." Severus started to get slightly angry, "that I switched to the other side, working for Dumbledore. In fact, he saved me when I was brought to trial, but because I had given myself in before then, I could not be tried properly. Eventually, Voldemort fell and I was brought to trial again, and was let off." He sighed.  
  
Emilia could sense that he was tense and angry, so she was quiet for a moment. She took in everything he said. He almost had as many skeletons in his closet as she.  
  
"What was it you had to do?" Emilia asked quietly.  
  
"Excuse me?" Severus said, looking up at her.  
  
"What was it that you had to do?" she repeated.  
  
Severus gave her a hard look, then his expression softened. "I do trust you, Emilia, but I can't tell anyone, let alone let myself believe it happened."  
  
Emilia nodded. "We all have secrets like that." Some of us have too many, she thought.  
  
Severus looked at her suddenly. "What?" he said, surprised. "What secrets could you harbor in that small mind of yours?"  
  
Emilia sighed exasperatedly. "I knew that this wouldn't last," said she, though it was in a heavy sigh. Slapping her knees, she stood. "What a wonderful conversation I've had with you Severus, but I really ought to be going. Nice to know it didn't kill you to carry on a conversation once in your lifetime."  
  
"And maybe," he said, also standing, "perhaps you could pick a less sensitive subject to talk about. There is nothing I love more than discussing the horrors of the past." "I was just curious," she said, clenching her fists. "Besides, you would have had to explain sooner or later. This is not something that you can keep hidden for a long time."  
  
"It worked for years, Emilia," he replied shortly. "You and Dumbledore are the only ones that I know of that know I am a Death Eater that haven't been ones yourself. And of course, the Ministry, but they don't like to dwell on those subjects either."  
  
"Like a good government," she added sarcastically. Emilia started to walk over to the door then stopped. She turned around slowly, and lifted her head up. "Why are you so damn disagreeable?"  
  
"I don't know," he said angrily. "I find it a wonderful talent I like to exercise often."  
  
She gave him a withering look and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Funny, Severus."  
  
Severus walked over to her with a sweeping motion. "I thought it was," he replied. "Aren't you leaving?"  
  
"Sure," Emilia said. "Happy Christmas." She was debating whether or not to do what she was going to do, but she did it anyway. Reaching inside her robes, she extracted a small package and handed it to him. Emilia smiled, and walked out the door.  
  
  
  
Emilia remembered when she got that a couple of weeks ago. She'd almost forgotten to give it to him. It was a small pocket watch, in which she had fixed after she found it among her things. She thought it was the perfect gift for him. It was just personal enough. Engraved on the back was his name, of course, but she didn't think he would put too much stock into it.  
  
She had meant to hand it to him that night-after the party, of course-but something else got in her way (what else but the Death Eaters-how convenient). Since Dumbledore declared that because of the problems of last week that today would be celebrated Christmas, though the usually happy season was marked with funeral plans.  
  
Earlier that morning, she retrieved her robes from the Gryffindor dormitories and returned Potter's; she'd had it fixed, mended, and cleaned. As she had bent down to pick up the silky gold robe, the small package had slipped out and she stared at it curiously. Then she remembered that she had delivered Minerva's present and Dumbledore's through the Owl Post, but had forgotten Severus's in her room and wanted to make sure she'd get it delivered that night. Too bad that it turned out the way it did.  
  
So, she decided that the next time she saw him, she'd hand it to him. Emilia, though always full of pride and sarcasm, was not one to let someone be uninvited. It would have been rude not to give Severus a gift just because he's an ass.  
  
Emilia hoped that he'd at least like it. It did take a great deal of thought to figure out what to get him. Nothing tacky, yet something unexpected. She hoped that he would like it. After all, the prick didn't even get her anything.  
  
She went back up into her room and saw a small bundle of gifts at the food of her bed. Post had been late due to the unfortunate circumstances of last night and so therefore Post was sent out after lunch, at the earliest. She was pleased to see any pile at all. She hadn't had a semi- real Christmas since she was a governess.  
  
She went to her bed and sat down, about ready to open all her lovely gifts when there was a tapping at her window. She looked over and saw it was Sagittarius, her owl, tapping his beak on the pane. "You stupid bird," she said, getting up to let him in, "sometimes I ought to-" she was interrupted by a loud fluttering of wings as the large tawny wanted to get in out of the cold.  
  
He flew in importantly, and landed on her bed, ruffling his feathers and holding out his leg for the letter to be taken off. "I haven't anything for you to eat or drink," she said, putting a hand on her hip and giving a languishing look to her bird. "You should have shown up for lunch." Then she laughed. "Come here, Sagittarius, it's been such a long time since I seen you!" She scooped the bird on her arm and gave him a small hug. He hooted happily, knowing that his master was just joking with him. Emilia always did this with Sagittarius-it got her bird to do whatever she needed him to do and well.  
  
"Well, what have we here?" she said, untying the letter on the leg. "A Christmas card?"  
  
Sagittarius hooted apprehensively. "I know you want something to eat, so let me see what this is and then I'll see what I can scrape up for you." She took the envelope and sat down on the bed. She pried the top off and looked inside.  
  
It was a letter from Dumbledore, requesting a staff holiday party at about seven tonight. Dumbledore hinted that the apparel ought to be Muggle clothing. Emilia sighed. She thought it would have been better if Voldemort had not attacked the building. It was slightly depressing going to a party after such a dilemma, even if it were a week later. Emilia resolved to go anyway.  
  
Abandoning the pile of the gifts on the bed and took her owl downstairs to where she thought she could find some food for her owl. "Come on, pip up Sagittarius. Once I find the Kitchen it'll be easy to get you some food and then I can return to open my gifts you so rudely interrupted me opening."  
  
"You do talk to yourself," said a voice behind her. Emilia turned around and saw that it was Severus.  
  
"No, I was talking to my owl, because I'm going to get him food," Emilia replied.  
  
"Convenient I ran into you," he started. "I was going to say thank you for the watch." Severus looked uncomfortable.  
  
"You're welcome," she replied. "I thought you might like it. It's a priceless gift, and I thought that those were the gifts you'd enjoy more. Though, that mostly goes for me. Maybe you like tacky gifts, I don't know."  
  
"Don't insult me," Severus retorted. "And I am still surprised that you got me anything at all."  
  
"Don't insult me," she replied. "I may be a bitch, but I'm not rude." She smiled at him. "If you don't mind, I want to feed my owl and then open my gifts. That's the best part of Christmas."  
  
"Certainly," Severus said, albeit sarcastically.  
  
"Happy Christmas," she said happily. Emilia turned around and walked away. She had a small smile on her face. He had liked his gift.  
  
Emilia opened the door to her room, and saw the still wrapped presents on her bed. "Yay, I can open them now," she said out loud, and jumped onto the bed. Though it may be a childish thought, she couldn't help but be ecstatic for presents. Her birthday, falling in April, was much like this as well. Not so much the presents, of course, but the whole specialty of the occasion.  
  
Emilia picked up the first box wrapped in gold, and saw that it was from Minerva. She opened it up eagerly and saw that it was a blue closed box. She pulled open the sides and saw that it was a real dress. Emilia had never owned anything but robes, and the fanciest thing was a dress robe. But a real dress. She pulled it out and walked over to the mirror and held it up to her black robes.  
  
The dress was a deep, luscious red that looked very form fitting. It came up on side and had a ruffle in a slant on the bottom. The dress was sleeveless with thin spaghetti straps. The chest had a folded-over design, exposing her neck, and it only accented the dress's looks. Emilia smiled.  
  
She looked down on the floor and picked up the card that was with the dress. "I thought you may have liked this," she read aloud, "and I say no doubt that Severus would. Happy Christmas, Emilia."  
  
She stuck her tongue out at the card. "Severus would like this indeed," she said back to the card. "Harumph." Emilia went into the bathroom and tried the dress on. Walking out, she caught herself in the mirror. She looked really good in the dress. It was just the right size, and didn't flaunt anything too uncomfortable. Emilia really liked the material as well. It was a smooth hybrid of cotton and silk. She grinned at her reflection. Now she needed some shoes to go with it.  
  
Sitting down on the bed, Emilia decided that she'd open the rest of her gifts wearing the dress. She took up the next gift, which was something from Dumbledore. Opening it up happily, she pulled out a book named Unnerving Farewells. "Hmm," she said, flipping the book over and looked at the back. She opened the front cover and looked at the first page. "Good choice, Dumbledore," she murmured to herself, smiling. Emilia set the book down and picked up the card that fell out of the front cover.  
  
"To Emilia," she read out loud, "who is more like a granddaughter I never had. May all the best happen to you after these dreary times, and do not be afraid to fall. Happy Christmas." Emilia choked back tears. "Dumbledore..." she said to the card.  
  
She set the paper into the cover again and placed the book on her nightstand. Then she turned to the next present, which was a small, very tightly wrapped gift. Emilia dug her nails into the side and pried off the silver wrapping. The inside a blue velvety box. Curious, Emilia tilted her head and opened it slowly. Inside there was necklace, a delicate silver chain attached to a small charm. The charm was a heart curved at the end with a hanging diamond in the middle. A small card had popped out, and she picked it up slowly.  
  
"Emilia," the card read. "I don't know how much you are into jewelry, but when I saw this in Hogsmeade when you were sick, I thought this would make you happy. God only knows, you're too miserable most of the time-" Emilia smiled. It was from Severus. "What a way to break the mood, Sev," she said to herself, then continued to read. "-And I knew your birthday was in April (somehow Dumbledore found this prudent to tell us before we met you, something of an ice breaker). Don't put too much stock into it-" Emilia felt tears sting the corner of her eyes, "-and Happy Christmas."  
  
Her hand started to shake as she held the card. "Oh you stupid man," she said. "I'm supposed to hate you!" Emilia set the card down and picked up the open box. She took it out and held it up to the light, and a rainbow splashed on the wall. It's gorgeous, though, Severus. You certainly picked the right one.  
  
She put it on, and walked over to the mirror. The necklace complimented the dress quite nicely. "Why couldn't you have gotten me a book!" she said angrily to the mirror.  
  
"Who should have gotten you a book?" a voice said as the door to her room opened. Emilia blushed and turned around.  
  
"Don't scare me like that, Minerva!" she said, clutching her chest.  
  
"Sorry. But I like the dress," she said smiling. "I didn't think it would look so decent on you. Damn."  
  
Emilia gave her a half smile. "Yeah, lucky me. Oh, and thank you for the dress!"  
  
"And thank you for mine," she said, laughing. "We really ought to take the holidays more seriously."  
  
"But then it's no fun," she said. She had gotten Minerva a blue spin- swing dress. It would complement Minerva's thin stature. "So, back from hell already?"  
  
"Sure," she said listlessly, sitting at the table. "Ugh, I hate doing this."  
  
"Feeling better?" she said, walking over to her, and placing a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"A little. Too tired to care..." Minerva replied, rubbing her eyes. "Happy Christmas, by the way."  
  
"Yes, Happy Christmas," she said, drifting off, and walked over to her bed. Emilia picked up the papers and threw it away. Then she noticed the last box on the bed.  
  
"What's this?" Emilia said, opening the box. It was her shoes from yesterday, from the corridor.  
  
She started to laugh. "What's so funny?" Minerva asked.  
  
"Nothing," she said, happily, picking up a shoe and holding it up, laughing loudly now. "Nothing at all..."  
  
~!--------------------!~ AND the thank yous...  
  
The TONY goes to.  
  
(Tony Tony Tony Tony Tony.ahhh! He's having a stroke! WHAT?! Of genius!)  
  
millee: um, she's not a parselmouth, and the thing is not a snake. Goodness, that might have been confusing. Well, heads up people, Severus wasn't paying hard enough attention to what the fuck was going on. Typical guy. And thank you for reviewing! About Flitwick: I'm sorry, but I needed someone.major but not a potential main character. Believe me, if Trelawney wasn't going to appear in the next chapter, I'd have killed her off.  
  
Vespertilios-Flower: Thank you, I know I updated.and I am lazy. But I'll try not to be.  
  
Josie: yeah, yeah, thank you for reading finally. Anyway, DON'T VOTE REPUBLICAN. But that gave me a clue who the hell you were.lol. How was Chem lab on Friday? Sorry, I needed a mental health day.  
  
The Muses: to the most talented writer of which I am hooked to your story (and am planning to review after this: A NEW CHAPTER!) thank you for updating. And I'm planning to send you emails for this ^^ Romance is eventual. And read her story. Lol, nothing like shameless promoting.  
  
Thank you to all who reviewed, I love you all!  
  
Kary 


	25. Moments Like This

AN: Hello there! It's been so long since I last updated, hasn't it? I have decided to give you a little something this chapter…but you will get quite a treat this update. I have no idea how many pages this is in the Word thingy, but this is six, and it goes from 131-151 (lol, you get like, three chapters this update with 20 pages). There are three things I want to chat about before I finish updating. 

Part one: the movie on DVD. Awesome. 19 deleted scenes! I couldn't believe it. It was sooo cool, and then there is Snape, AHHH the Dueling Scene Hotness, and plus I had to watch Sense and Sensibility again, MAN does he look a lot better then (why Kate Winslet, WHY?). Anyway, if you saw that then you get it. Chicago, awesome, awesome, and the soundtrack's even better. That's nothing you needed to know. Just remember that Severus Snape is the bestest in the whole wide world, and only Alan Rickman may play him. Even if you do get weird looks when you say he's your favourite actor. I even heard him SING! It's true! (here: ) go to the last one on the bottom. It's him SINGING! Ahhh! Anyway, onto the chapter!

Chapter Twenty-Five: Moments like This

"Remember: you're supposed to be happy," Emilia said, clicking in a diamond earring into her ear. "It's the bloody holidays, and well, we deserve a good laugh." She moved away from her mirror and smoothed out her red dress, moving the clasp of her new necklace to the back. Glancing at herself in the mirror and approving her attire—not to mention her "look"—she turned to Minerva and grinned, who was using her third can of hair spray.

"Seriously, it's not what you think," Minerva protested, shaking the can and giving up. She patted her head, and it didn't feel quite right. Her hair was livelier than most people knew.

"Minerva," Emilia said, picking up two empty cans of hair spray, "if you _aimed_ at your head, then you oughtn't have a problem!" She laughed. "Well, I really can't say anything. I don't use spray, and looked at this," she added, looking in the mirror pointedly. Her hair was thrown up on her head with a huge clip, and all of it was falling out—around her face and down her back.

"Oh, yes, the pity to have natural beauty," Minerva replied sardonically, grabbing the two cans of spray and shoving them guiltily into Emilia's trash can. "Ready?"

"Yes," she said, with a huge smile on her face. She wanted to be happy. Emilia did not want to think about the deaths that occurred one week ago. She wanted to have this over and done with—let her enjoy one night, to herself. Emilia felt as if she _deserved_ this.

"We overdid it, Emilia," Minerva said, looking in the mirror along with Emilia. They were two close friends, having a fun time; though Emilia knew it wouldn't last, she thought that this was better than she'd ever been. She finally had a true-blue friend.

"Yes, but we were trying to impress the mirror," she said. The mirror grunted, and though it was the first time it ever spoke, Emilia was not surprised. She was sure anything could speak in the wizarding world if it wanted.

Minerva, though she felt that this was silly, loosed up a lot in the couple of hours there (though that might have been from the wine Emilia had brought out. Minerva, though she did not suspect a drinking problem, drank nearly the entire bottle. Emilia wasn't concerned. It loosened her up considerably. Besides, she knew there were other circumstances—like coming back from all the families of those killed—and she let it all slide). In the happy company, Emilia suggested that they dress up considerably for this, and Minerva agreed. So, there she stood, in her blue spin-swing dress, looking rather decent for her age, with her hair knotted at the nape of her neck with a large black bow. Despite how old she was, Emilia was amazed at how young Minerva looked still.

"Ready?" she said again. Emilia blinked herself from her thoughts.

"Certainly," she said, opening her door. She moved out, and Minerva followed. They made their way to the staff room reserved for special occasions, on the seventh floor, and saw the gold glitter of the doorway. As they stepped in, Emilia thought she walked into another dimension.

It was snowing, though the snow was warm and pleasant, not at all wet. There was a tree in the corner, and glittering gold charms were floating on it. Candles hovered from the ceiling, giving the room a rustic gold glow. It was naturally charming. At one end of the room, there was a table set up with punch (Emilia realized it had a little extra in it) and eggnog, with bourbon, she noted (from the smell of the room). Gold glitter was surrounded everywhere, and gold garland was strung up on the walls. What amazed her the most was the fact that everyone was dressed suitably in Muggle clothing. Not so much as amazed her, she thought, as it just amused her.

Minerva murmured something and disappeared among the teachers. Emilia was left to gaze in awe. She didn't mind too much, though. It truly was a gorgeous sight.

"Nothing like gold to ring in the Christmas cheer," a voice said silkily next to her, though she could tell the voice was slightly annoyed.

"It's a motif," she replied, looking to her left. Severus stood there, holding a glass of eggnog. Emilia turned away, before she did a double take on Severus.

Even he was donning a Muggle outfit. Because of his age—of lack of—he still remained rather brawn, wearing a tuxedo that James Bond might have kipped. It was black, though rather slimming on him—and his hair, Emilia noticed, was cut to chin length and not the length it was earlier. He looked rather groomed, indeed, and attractive. She realized that she was staring at him, and turned away blushing.

"I want to thank you for my Christmas gift," she said at last, watching the snowfall. "It's gorgeous." Subconsciously, she reached up and placed a hand on the charm.

Severus seemed a loss of words—for once. "You're—you're welcome." Emilia smiled and looked at him. He was looking down into his glass, clearly perturbed.

She didn't tell Minerva about her gift from Severus. She thought that it was a very private gift—and Minerva would shoot to the moon for this. She would be more than happy to comment, and Emilia didn't need that shit right now.

Feeling slightly awkward at this situation, she breathed in and exhaled slowly. "I think I'm going to take up a chat with Dumbledore. Want to come along?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Was I not allowed to go over there otherwise?"

"Well—that's not what I meant—" Severus gave her a small smile, and she realized he was joking. "I think someone's had a little _too_ much eggnog," she said, plucking the empty glass from his hand.

"Give my back my magic cup to sociability," he said.

"What?" Emilia asked, clearly bewildered.

"I have to be utterly drunk to be sociable. You're inhibiting the good time I'm supposed to be having."

"Oh, you're a funny one," she said, holding the glass away. "You can't be drunk. I didn't think Severus Snape _ever_ got drunk."

"Only on the holidays," he growled angrily, though he still had some humour in his voice. Only on the holidays? Then what he had meant hit Emilia, and her eyes opened wide. He was just as miserable as she was. He didn't deal with it the way she did, but he still felt the pang of loneliness at times when one was supposed to be happy.

She opened her mouth and Severus gave her a cold look. "Don't say a fucking word," he hissed. He figured out why she gave him the look he did, and if it wasn't Emilia's imagination, he looked almost resentful and angry for it. "I shouldn't have said anything. And I don't need—"

"Hello, Severus, Emilia," Dumbledore said, walking over to them with Minerva and Sibyll Trelawny at his side. Minerva looked displeased, and kept glaring at Trelawny. Emilia couldn't figure for the life of her why the hell she would be hanging around Dumbledore, but then again, Trelawny was a bit of a leech for misery.

Emilia looked at Dumbledore slowly, and couldn't bring herself to smile. Severus slowly unclenched his hands, which were dangerously white. 

"Hello, Dumbledore," Emilia replied, trying not to be monotonous. Severus stood up straight and gave him a grim smile.

"Dumbledore," he said, addressing the old man, who looked very odd with his long beard and a Muggle blazer.

"Happy Christmas!" he said happily, clapping Severus on the back. He was surprised and did not return Dumbledore's happy attitude. "I hope that you two are having a good time? Muggle clothes are rather comfortable, don't you think?" Emilia smiled weakly and Severus shifted his stance.

"I do hope that you are all well," Trelawny said mistily. Her huge bug eyes seemed to be hinting at something, as she wrapped her tattered red shawl around her tighter. Emilia thought she looked like a dilapidated bag lady on the outskirts of London. She felt uncomfortable at her intense gaze.

"Well, don't feel too obliged to have fun. Talk to you later," he said, noticing (by the grace of God no less, Emilia thought) that someone was waving him over to their group. Trelawny drifted away and Minerva hurried off.

"Of course," Emilia said, cradling the cup in her hands, feeling the coolness of the cup. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," Severus echoed quietly.

With one last smile, Dumbledore walked over away from them. Emilia looked down at the cup. "I think I'm going to have some myself," she said softly.

Severus glared at her, reaching down for the cup she held and slamming it down on the nearby table, causing Emilia to squeeze her eyes shut and jump at the loud sound. The room was silent for a moment. With a final glare, Severus turned his head and walked out of the room.

Emilia stood there, transfixed to the spot. People resumed their talking after Severus had walked out. She felt tears well in her eyes, her hands still in the form of the cup. She looked up and walked out of the room as well.

She didn't have to go far. He was standing outside of the door, leaning against the wall. Emilia stopped and stared at him for a moment. "Severus, I'm sorry. I know how you feel—"

"Sure you do," he sneered, covering up the fact he was embarrassed. "I'm sure you know everything about everything, and that it's just plain and easy for you to relate to anything terrible."

Emilia was taken aback. Clenching her hands, she said, "Excuse me? What the hell do you mean by that? I didn't have a fucking picturesque childhood Severus. It's called empathy. And I'm sorry that I can relate to things. Apparently—"

Severus grabbed her shoulders roughly. Emilia stopped talking and looked up at him, slightly surprised. "Why must you always argue?" he said angrily.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he spoke for her. "It was a rhetorical question, Emilia." He sighed, and let go of her shoulders. Severus leaned against the wall dejectedly, placing two hands on his temples.

Feeling that an apology ought to be said, Emilia shifted her stance took a quick breath. "I'm sorry," Emilia said softly. Severus looked at her, and she felt somewhat self-conscious.

"Damn you," replied Severus, clutching his stomach. He looked a little green, and definitely agitated. "Damn," there was a pause, "damn you..."

"What?" Emilia said, gazing into his dark eyes. He glanced away from her.

"Even after all that's happened, and everything else, you still have the ability to redeem yourself without even trying," he spoke. Emilia didn't understand what he meant. Her puzzled look must have given her away.

"Emilia," he said, absentmindedly picking lint of his black blazer, "I know that you've been through just as much as I have, maybe more. The both of us have things in our past that we'd rather not let anyone know. We've both done things we are not proud of, but I just don't think that..." he trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

So that was it, then. They were only similar in the fact that they held secrets in their past that would make people's hair curl. Emilia certainly did, and she knew Severus the first time looking at him that he did as well. And he probably didn't think that she would understand what he had been through. He was insinuating that she didn't know what had happened in his past. She knew the Death Eater's rite of passage, and what they did, but just because she didn't know the details, didn't mean she didn't know what was going on.

"I didn't know you felt that way, Severus," she said disconsolately. "But I think I understand. I'll...I'll leave then, shall I?" Emilia blinked, pressing her eyelids together tightly and turned to walk down the hall. That bastard...

Something grabbed her wrist. "Emilia..." he said softly, and pulled her close to him. Brushing the hair off her face, Severus brushed his thumb along the contours of the outside of her face. "But I don't want you to, really," Severus said gently.

Emilia looked at him intently. "Severus, I don't know what to say to that..."

"There's always a first for everything," he murmured.

She leaned into him, cracking a smile. "You're really a joke, Severus."

"I always thought so," he said modestly. "And I guess, though I've yet to say it myself, I'm sorry." He looked into her eyes.

She smiled. Severus leaned in and kissed her; Emilia willingly accepted, finally able to have what she had yearned for, for so long. All year, she wanted this, and she'd never had the chance. His hands pulled her closer, one hand spread across her lower back, his other tracing her neckline and down her side. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself to him, as he deepened the kiss. _God, I'd wanted this for so long...this seems only fair for the shit I've been dealing with for the last twenty seven years of my life..._ Her knees buckled weakly. Who knew that he could be so... amorous?

When they broke their kiss, Emilia's first thought—though foolishly, she knew—was that she could never say anything to anyone. He ought to be _her _secret.

Emilia opened her eyes slowly. "Mmm..." she said. "Well, who knew Severus Snape was such a good kisser."

"Am I really?" he said sarcastically. "Well, I no doubt I've had practice..."

"...I can only imagine with what…!" she answered him, smiling. Touching the side of his face, she glanced away, past his shoulder and put her cheek on his. "Do you feel better?"

"Much," he replied. "Although, I had doubts this would ever happen."

"Did you really?" Emilia said in a high tone, purposely. "Hmm...bet Trelawny never predicted this."

"That old hag couldn't predict something that had already happened," Severus murmured into her ear, and Emilia laughed, wrapping her arms around Severus and pulling him close to her.

"You know what?" she said, pulling back from him, "for the first time all year, you haven't acted like an ass yet. It's an improvement."

"Gee, thanks, Emilia."

Emilia smacked him on the arm. "No, I'm serious," she said, laughing.

"Yeah, you're so serious, laughing like a homicial maniac," Severus interjected, looking away from her and proving a point, crossing his arms. Emilia took a step back and stretched, trying to stifle her laughs.

"But I can just imagine you being the romantic sap," Emilia said, raising her arms into the arm and yawning. It must be late. "I mean, not getting laid all those years, I'm only to assume that you will overdo it, you know?"

Severus's cheeks turned slightly pink. "That was really uncalled for, Emilia," he said.

Emilia looked up at him. "Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, I guess it was," she replied, thinking about what she had said. She grinned. "I didn't think it was true…"

Severus gave her a mock glare. "You're asking for it," he said, trying to use a no-nonsense tone with her. It was not succeeding, because soon he was smiling. Emilia held up her hands apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "Mental note to myself: Severus Snape's sex life is strictly off-limits to joke about." Or lack thereof, she thought.

Severus rolled his eyes and started to walk away. Emilia sighed and walked up next to him. "Do you always walk away from conversations?"

"When they aren't going my way, yes."

"Prat," Emilia said. She paused. "Anyway, thank you for my shoes."

Severus stopped. "What?"

"I said thank you for my shoes. I didn't remember them, and then they were right on my bed along with my presents. It was unsigned, but I knew you had sent them up along with your gift."

"Well, someone had to remember where you left your shoes. Besides, you'd start yelling at me anyway about them."

"Yes, because then it would still be your fault." She took his arm in hers. He tensed slightly, then relaxed. She leaned against him, feeling tired. Tomorrow started more classes of the second semester; the clock ringing in the background told her it was half ten. She would need to wake up early to get all of her things for the next semester together…

Apparently her fatigue was obvious. "Do you want to go to sleep now? You look tired."

"Yeah," she said distantly. "Classes start tomorrow; I probably ought to go to bed now." She moved to walk away from him when Severus held her arm tightly.

"I'll walk you at least up to your room," he said gently. "Besides, you look like you're ready to fall asleep right here. Did you imbibe too much alcohol?"

"Very funny," she said. "No, that was Minerva. She practically downed the whole bottle of wine earlier. But I did have some too…" Emilia added thoughtfully.

"I see."

"It's not like that, Severus!"

"Sure. They say denial is the first symptom. But acceptance _is_ the first step, Emilia," he said, walking on with her, his hand clasped over her own on his arm. He patted her hand comfortingly 'assuring' that he was 'there' for her.

Emilia rolled her eyes. "Clever of you. Did you come up with that one all by yourself? Besides, you ought to take a leaf out of your own book, then."

"What does that mean?" Severus asked, rounding a corner to a staircase to the sixth floor.

"Your 'socialibilty' cup," she replied simply.

"Treading on dangerous ground, Emilia," he said, his voice low and venomous.

"What, is everything a touchy subject with you?" she said, slightly angry and embarrassed. Emilia pulled her arm away from him and held it up, as if it was burned. Her cheeks flushed. She knew why she was taking this so much to heart. It was damaging to her pride, her dignity, to have herself be made a fool. "And your Twelve Steps remark was pure sunshine and daisies?"

Severus's brow furrowed slightly. "Who's the touchy one here?" he said, obviously not trying to allievate the situation.

"I'm not in the mood for this," she snapped. "I'm tired. Good night, Severus," she said, turning sharply around and walking away.

Images of earlier flashed into her mind. His soft lips, his eager touch, the way her knees felt weak and the electricity that she felt from his fingers…there was no doubt in her mind that she cared for him. But his attitude…she couldn't tell if he cared for her or not. He was almost a gentleman there for a few moments, seemingly well mannered. Then his goddamn temper.

And hers.

_Damn._

Okie: the thank yous, as I promised (this will be the only one until the next update)

Josie: Never saw the entire STUPID play you guys put on…lol. Wasn't it like, three hours? And self pity never hurt anyone. Lol, Don't Vote Republican.

perfectlywindysky: thank you for liking my lack of plot! I don't want this to end, but if I can't update as much as I like, I may have to devise a temporary ending! I don't want that, but this summer=internship at college and that sucks. Thank you for reading! I hope you like this new batch!

Vespertilio Orientalis: thank you for liking my chapter title. I like coming up with new chapter titles, gives me something to do. And it makes me feel smart. . .in a REALLY weird, odd and unusal way. . .

Mae Noelle: I'm sorry for the lack of updating. I promise, promise, promise to do more when I can. After the third week in May, there will be more updating because then I can feel like a Reject kid—I mean, Regents kid (no offense) because all the hard classes will END! I can't wait for my liberation! Lol, and romance is really hard for me to write, so I will definitely keep it awkward. Can't write it any other way.

Nataly Ravenlock: Planning on reading your stuff. . .it's been a while since we've talked! Anyway, yes, the Producers do rule, and yes, school MAJORLY sucks. Come back to our school and knock Ann Marie off her fucking high horse. . .and I do mean her boyfriend. Anyway, you write more romance, and I might too. In fact grins evilly I plan on doing so soon!


	26. Drowning In My Dreams

AN: Another chapter! Yay! Anyway, this one includes a new topic:

Part Two: the Harry Potter game. REALLY REALLY HARD. I got it at Christmas time…and have yet to finish it. I have a huge problem with the spiders, seeing as I am deadly afraid of them. I can't sit there and play against those things without running out of the room screaming, which I actually did. The first time I saw them I jumped up from the computer, ran out of the room and sobbed hysterically into a kleenex curled in the corner of my bathroom, shaking. The second time I sat there sceaming at the computer, not being able to be consoled. I had a lot of problems being Aragog, lemme tell ya. But I faced it up—and every time Harry used the "Rictasemptra!" spell, I yelled it too, at the top of my lungs, and yelled, "haha, you motherfuckers, got ya." I think I'm crazy. But I hate spiders. Ugh, why did they have to make them so real? And I apologize for the song in this: not the entire thing, just the refrain. The original is in Japanese, but I used the English. That's how this chapter got its name. So, anyway, spiders bad, new chapter good. See ya next time!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Drowning in my Dreams

She opened the door noiselessly and glided into her room, clicking the oak door shut behind her. "Perhaps it was all for the best," she said softly aloud. After all, they were truly complete opposites. Well, maybe not completely. But their personalilties didn't mix. Each was as stubborn as the next. And neither would ever budge.

_Besides_, a small voice replied, _Faculty relationships are against the rules. Right up there with student/professor relationships._ It was forbidden. Plain and simple, black and white—nothing more, nothing less.

Emilia sighed loudly. "Fuck it," she said, walking into the bathroom and turning on the taps. The warm water rushed out, and she stuck her hand under the facet. "I need to relax…"

She slid into her bedroom and undressed, hanging her dress in the closet and putting on her bathrobe. Emilia then walked over to the bookshelf, and ran her finger over the title bindings, not reading any one of them.

Her mind was distant, far away. She was thinking about Severus…breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes and smiled subconsciously. But a knock on her door awoke her from her memory.

She uttered an agitated growl. "Coming," she said, wrapping her robe tighter. Emilia ran into the bathroom and shut off the tap. Then she walked to the door and opened it.

"Yes?" she asked, looking out.

Severus's eyes met hers. "Have I come at a bad time?"

Emilia glared at him. "What do you want?"

"To do something totally out of character."

"What, to learn to have a heart? To become a human? Stop wasting my time."

"To apologize."

"Oh, that really _is_ out of character. But for one million dollars, can you tell me why you apologize?" Emilia said, opening the door a little wider and stepping outside the door, leaning against the frame.

Severus looked slightly angry at her open sarcasm. "I've come to apologize for letting you think that our relationship is anything but plutonic. Faculty relationships are forbidden, and I didn't wish you to think there was anything more."

Emilia stared at him. It was eerie that his words echoed her thoughts from earlier. "_What?_"

"Good night, Emilia," he said with a curt bow, and walked off. His shadowy figure disappeared in the flames from the wall, their fiery ends lapping up any traces of him.

Emilia's mouth gaped open, finally recognizing what he had said. She glared at the empty hallway and turned sharply, entering her rooms. Her hand swung out and slammed the door shut.

"That _prick_!" she shrieked angrily, leaning against the wall. She formed her hands into balls and banged them against the door. Without warning, she felt tears start to stream down her face.

She covered her face and sunk down to her knees, crying. "Oh God, what mess have I gotten myself into?" she whispered, and sobbed herself to exhaustion.

She awoke the next morning, curled into a ball against her door. She looked around, and tried to remember why, of all places to sleep, she was on the floor without any blankets and still in her bathrobe.

Then Emilia remembered last night. "Oh geez…" she muttered into her hands. Standing up, she walked into the bathroom and drained the completely frigid water. Walking over to the basin, she splashed fresh water on her face and decided that she needed to take a quick shower. Classes started at eight, and it was rightly six thirty; her internal clock woke her up, and for once she was glad for it.

By seven, she was completely ready to go. She would have liked a little more time; she estimated ten minutes to get to the Great Hall and down some breakfast before she went to her first class.

It was refreshing that school was starting, and a sense of normalcy was coming about, now that everyone had had time to grieve their losses. Classes today will surely be depressing, no doubt, but life finds a way.

She walked into the Great Hall to find Severus already seated. Her stomach did a flip flop. For some reason, a terrible fear overcame her and she couldn't move past the Great Hall's door frame.

Emilia knew that, according to Severus, that nothing officially happened last night. It made her feel vulnerable, to be perfectly frank, and it pissed her off that Severus would just write off that passionate kiss they shared as 'plutonic' or worse—like it didn't even happen at all.

Emilia took a deep breath to calm herself and walked away from the Great Hall. A wave of regret and other feelings like that overtook her, and suddenly she had never felt so alone in her life. She couldn't tell anyone about how she felt; though it was not her nature, even a chat with Minerva was unadvisable. However, her mind was already at work:

_Fuck it_.

As she walked, a song popped into her head that she had heard a very long time ago. Humming it softly, she walked into her room, and sat down, singing softly. 

(AN: COULDN'T RESIST. It's from the X Original Soundtrack. For those of you sad people who have not experienced this anime, go and see it. For those of who have seen it, ahhh that Fuma…)

She sighed, closing her eyes for a second. _Burning for your life…This life will burn out someday, even if you try to cling to it…(_for the perfect dream_)…drowning in my dream…even if it's remembered, a dream is only a dream_…"

Wasn't last night like a dream?

__

Fuck it.

Oh what the hell.

She covered her face in her hands and willed her eyes to stop forming tears. She felt as if she had been used, like some doll, and now that she was 'no longer needed' she was tossed to the side.

Ironic how that song she remembered fit so well with how she was feeling.

Students were filling into her classes now. She had eventually gotten up and wrote her lecture notes on the subject for today. The students looked tired but oddly relieved to have a normal schedule again.

Emilia went through the classes that morning with half of her attention span. She found that she couldn't focus on what she was teaching. In fact, she couldn't even tell if she was talking in circles. No one payed attention to what she was saying anyway. Emilia gave each class an assignment and let them off to do their work in partners. She was too tired to care.

When the bell rang after her second class that morning she slumped into her desk and groaned into her hands. "Why am I so fucking tired?" she said to herself, mumbling into her sleeves.

Emilia then decided to focus her attention on her afternoon classes and set up for those. She really didn't want to go to the Great Hall—the last thing she needed was another stomachache like before.

Just thinking about it made her have mixed feelings. Emilia felt so sick to her stomach, it was like reliving a nightmare over and over in her head and she couldn't escape from it. What was she going to do? The rational part of her mind said that she needed to eat.

The other part said that she would see her food again if she did.

Emilia was torn in a battle between her feelings and her mind. But at that point, she didn't care. Emilia had managed to push away just about anyone she cared for. Her mother—who died shortly after a quarrel with her and she never got to apologize; her father— newly deceased and though she hadn't had any loose ends with him, Voldemort made it quite clear that it was indeed, her fault; now Severus, with their constant bickering. So what did it matter?

Because truly, it didn't.

The next three days were uneventful. Emilia managed to avoid Severus, but clearly not eating was taking a toll on her. She was snappy to her students and tired constantly. But every time she thought of going down to eat in the Great Hall her fear won out. She didn't know what she felt but it was surely embarrassment or something.

It was midday on Thursday when she finally spoke anything to anyone. For three days she had managed to avoid just about everyone she could, save the students she had to teach. She was down in the library, surrounded by books, taking notes for her next week's classes. Emilia was amazed how much work she could get down within the lunchbreak, dinnerbreak and breakfast break they were allowed each day.

"Good afternoon, Emilia," a solemn voice said softly. Emilia looked up and saw that it was Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," she replied, and then went back to her work, shuffling papers, looking for the notes she took on the Red Caps for her third year classes. "Is there something I can help you with?" Emilia was irritated that someone interrupted her work. Even if it was Dumbledore.

"Actually, yes you can," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on the chair opposite her. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"No," she said shortly. "But I'm in the middle of something right now. Can this wait until later?" Emilia looked up, slightly annoyed, and very tired.

"That is what I wish to talk about," he said gently, pulling out the oak chair and sitting. He placed his hand on the work she had turned back to, distracting her. "I don't know what is going on, and I doubt you'll tell me; I'm not asking you to. That is your own business. But I am concerned."

"You concern is noted," she said, glancing up at him with a withering look. "I, however, have a lot of things to do and need to get back to them."

Emilia realized what she had said, and opened her mouth to apologize. Dumbledore smiled at her. "Don't bother. I understand that you are mad or upset about something. I just hope that you will be strong enough to realize that it shouldn't take a physical side effect. You haven't shown up to any of the meals in three days, and the House Elves haven't seen you either. Have you eaten anything in three days?"

_No_, she thought. However, she said, "I have been eating. Thank you for coming down here. And I'm fine, really. It's just…well, I think that the holidays have caught up with me and I don't feel so well right now."

Dumbledore looked at her through the top of his half moon spectacles. "If you are certain, then. But you are invited—and it's not a request, Emilia—to dinner. I shall see you then."

Emilia frowned slightly. "Good day, Headmaster," she replied, terminating the conversation, and looked down at her books, continuing to take notes.

Dumbledore gave one final look at her and stood quietly, leaving. Emilia knew that he had grounds to be concerned, but she was an adult after all. If she chose not to eat, that was her business. Emilia was still teaching. She was doing her job, and that was all she was paid for.

Plus, going down to the Great Hall ought to be an adventure tonight. She didn't really want to. She didn't feel like sitting next to Severus. Emilia wanted to avoid this entire thing.

And she really hated to admit it, but she was downright scared of him: scared of Severus's reaction, scared of how she'll react. Emilia had been, to put it bluntly, rejected by the fucking _Potions Master_; the man she hated since the beginning of time, the man whom of which everyone hated, and he—_he_—had the balls to "let her down"—though not gently.

Her hands clenched. Anger boiled in her veins. "Oh, that _bastard_!" she seethed silently. That…that…she couldn't even think of a word to describe what the hell he did.

Tears rolled down her cheeks subconsciously. She gathered up her notes and left, walking back to her classroom quickly. She went inside and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a deep sigh. "I don't want to go to dinner," she said aloud. "And I'm not."

Emilia walked down the stairs to her desk and put all her notes on it in a heap, then took to separating them. She had just finished filing the notes when students began to come in for class.

Emilia stood up and, though she was sure she did it too quickly, her visioned blackened and her head pounded loudly. She blinked rapidly, waiting for the darkness to disappear, and put a hand on her head, wobbling back and forth. Luckily no one took notice.

She stood in the front of the room, and the blackness returned. Without warning, she felt herself falling down, further and further…then she hit something cold.

__

Her eyes opened slowly, to reveal a black landscape placed in a graveyard. Emilia felt like she had been here before, though she could not place quite where she remembered this dark and desolate place from. It was like a distant memory.

Or one she chose never to devulge.

She walked along the path, covered in dead leaves and gravel. She heard noises in the background, each as indistinguishable as the next. When she walked up the hill, she saw a clearing in the distance, and saw that it was covered with many people wearing black suits.

Emilia had a sinking feeling. Without knowing why, she ran down the hill and toward the clearing. She knew she was awfully loud, yet no one managed to look up at her approach.

She came around to an opening in the crowd, and saw that a man, with two small slits for eyes, glaring at a young woman, held still by two masked men. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back by one of the men, who forced this woman to look at their lord.

Emilia recognized the man as Voldemort; his face, though barely seen in the dark twilight of the night, was one of the most distinguishable faces she had ever burned in her memory.

Off to the corner, she knew that these men were Death Eaters, the legion of Voldemort's fighters. Two of them had their masks down. She soon recognized them as well. Left to right stood the aloof face of Lucius Malfoy, young and unburdened by the troubles of his unborn son; to his right stood the tall and handsome face of a newly inducted Severus Snape.

Why had she not remembered seeing him before? What had happened here that made her forget this?

Because she knew where she was. Emilia realized that she was reliving a memory: the memory of what happened when she was barely sixteen. Right about this time, her mother died, and her father was currently in Azkaban until the next month, if she remembered properly. And the woman before Voldemort—

—was none other than herself. Emilia moved in a little closer, so that she could hear properly.

"Do you really think that someone of your talent would be overlooked and an invitation not extended?" Voldemort was saying, smirking snidely.

"I will never join the Death Eaters so long as I live!" she could hear herself scream. "I have better things to do with my time. My father never pressed this on me—so why must you? I have always been loyal to all of you, so long as you were friend and not foe of my family. I have never done anything to hurt or reveal who you are. So why can't you just leave me alone, and let me finish my schooling?"

"You school is not even in session, Emilia," Voldemort replied. "And you would be a great asset to my cause."

"I don't want to be an asset. I want to be left alone!" Emilia's sixteen year old self answered. "Please…please…"

"No," Voldemort said shortly. "Extend her forearm for the burning of the Mark."

"NO!" she screamed, at the same time as Emilia's former self did. Tears fell down her face, looking at the memory she was reliving. The memory she had tried so hard to forget.

It wasn't hard; she, after all, being talented in Charms, managed to safely Obliviate her memories of this. So why, after all these years of being buried in her subconscious, was she remembering these memories now?

Emilia watched as she struggled away from Voldemort's wand. "Please don't," she heard herself cry, "I promise to do anything, anything but this!"

Voldemort stopped in his tracks. "Anything?"

Emilia couldn't see what was going on, so she ran though the opening of the crowd and ran to the front of what she was seeing. She saw herself: her hair pulled back roughly by the man on her right and her face dirty, tear streaked.

"Lucius," Voldemort hissed softly, and instantly the silver haired blonde was at his side.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You did express your resignation of using her not for a Death Eater but as something else. I give you full permission to use her as you see fit."

Emilia gasped, as Lucius strove forward and her former self was dropped to the ground, the two men walking away. She could hear herself cough and then Lucius was bent over her, lifting her up.

The next moment showed her being led away, to another clearing, a little bit further away. Emilia followed, and watched how Lucius carried her gently.

She didn't remember that of Lucius, ever. Emilia watched as she cried into Lucius's robes, gripping them tightly with her fists. She heard herself whisper thank yous to Lucius.

"What is going on?" she said. Emilia didn't remember any of this. Why? How could this have been such a terrible memory that she forgot it—not only that, but would risk an Obliviate Charm on herself?

Her question was answered. She saw Lucius set her down, and mash his mouth onto hers. Immediately Emilia remembered what had happened.

And why she forgot it.

It was because Lucius had raped her. Right then and there, Lucius had taken her unwillingly in that clearing, but fifty feet from the Death Eater circle.

And Severus knew what had happened. Severus knew that Lucius had taken her away. Surely—surely—_he could have done something to prevent that!_

Emilia watched in horror as Lucius took her former self, her first time—she watched as she beat on his chest, and he laughed with manipulation and anger, as he was amused by her pitiful fight backs. As his fingers brushed her skin, he touched her, violated her—

How could she have been so naïve? How could she have not seen what was coming? Emilia put her hands on her mouth and screamed.

Emilia wished she could have forgotten this again.


	27. Illusions

AN: This is the last time I pop up! Yay! So, anyway, I updated twenty pages. I do hope you love me now. And I hope I can go on and finish the evilness that is school. Okay, the third part: Why I couldn't update: school sucks. I'm carrying two AP courses and a full course load with about a million and one hundred things to do on the weekend plus during the week. So, like I said before, after the third week in May I will have much much much more time to update until, that is, the summer when I am supposed to do an internship with my college. This is cool, I get to stay at the college, but then I will be there for four weeks straight, and unless I can get to a computer, or bring one, getting updated will be hard. So, until May, toodles, and I love all of you who read this! Even if you don't update! But, please do.

-Kary

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Illusions

Emilia awoke with a start, feeling herself scream out of her dream.

"Calm down!" someone said sharply, holding her to the bed. The light was fuzzy and it took her a few moments to focus into the face of Severus Snape.

Oh. Dear. God.

"Get off me!" she screeched, loud as she could, thrashing so that he could not touch her. "Don't touch me!"

Severus finally took the hint and let go of her, holding his hands up. Emilia stopped thrashing around, but found herself instantly wishing she were still asleep. The last person she wanted to see right this second was Severus.

Why was he here?

"Go away," Emilia said angrily. "Just leave me alone!" She sat up and pulled off her covers, to reveal herself in her undergarments—namely, her bra and underwear. She looked down at herself then up at Severus, who was flushing quite nicely. He turned his head. Her face felt awfully warm...

Quickly, she covered herself up again and put her head underneath the sheets, her cheeks glowing, curling into the fetal position. "Oh my God…" she moaned, completely embarrassed. Couldn't he be anywhere else—_anywhere_ else?

Especially since she was hopelessly remembering that dream, or more like a memory, and what had happened before, three nights ago. Couldn't he just—for the sake of all that's Holy—leave?

"Severus," she murmured underneath the covers, "go away. I hate you. And I don't want to see you ever again."

"My sentiments exactly," he replied snidely. "However, fainting in the middle of a class clearly shows that something—other than your head—is wrong with you. Madame Pomfrey will be in here soon to give you back your results. However, since I was the consulting teacher, I am supposed to stay here—albeit, unwillingly—until Dumbledore arrives."

"Consulting teacher?" She peeked her head out from underneath the white sheet, feeling the cool fabric against her face, which was still blushed.

"Yes; someone ran out of your room claiming that you had fainted, and since I just happened to be passing by on my way to the Owlery, I had to take care of the situation."

"How long have I been out?"

"Nearly two hours. However, screaming yourself out of unconsciousness isn't the best remedy."

"Fuck off," she said miserably, tears rolling down her face, and she covered her head again. She sniffled the tears back, and turned over on her side. "Go away."

"Why were you screaming, Emilia?" Severus asked, obviously oblivious to her requests to skive off. He placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "Emilia?"

Her shoulder was shaking under his hand. "Severus, please, just…go…away. I don't want to talk about it."

Flashes of her memory were before her closed eyes. She remembered them awake, and she remembered them asleep. The hand on her should weighed down heavily, like a boulder on her shoulder. It was uncomfortable and burdening.

She lowered the covers to the top of her shoulders and wrapped them around herself. "Severus," she said, wiping her eyes, "I—"

Emilia turned to him, and saw his face. It was disquieting and concerning, and it made her want to cry even more. Apparently his actions hurt him more than it hurt her. But…

"Emilia," he said, removing his hand and sitting back into the chair, "I know what's wrong with you. Madame Pomfrey came over about an hour ago. She said that you fainted because you haven't eaten, and you've pushed yourself too hard. And I—I know that you didn't want to come down to the Great Hall, either, because Dumbledore noticed you weren't there. But I—"

"Good evening, Miss Black," Pomfrey said gravely, interrupting them, and pulled back the white curtain. She stepped inside, closing it behind her. "You are a very lucky woman, to have been taken here so quickly."

Severus looked away and placed a hand on his chin.

"What happened?" she asked, looking to Pomfrey.

"You fainted, dear," she said, bustling around, and looking contemptuously at Severus, who was only too happy to glare back. Turning to Severus, she said, "I hope that you didn't get an eyeful."

Severus raised his chin and his cheeks colored slightly.

"Ah, well, you're relieved until further notice," Pomfrey said, whisking him away. Severus stood and brushed off his robes. He said nothing as he left, but took one quick glance at Emilia over Pomfrey head, sorrow reflecting in his eyes, before turning away and leaving.

Or maybe it was all an illusion.

"You haven't eaten in a while," she said kindly, sitting on the bed. "You're tired and very stressed. I don't know what may have caused it, and though I ought to pry to know, I won't. I'm not stupid, though. I'm putting you on a strict eating schedule until further notice. And if you don't show at the Great Hall at every meal, I will have you relieved from duty, no exceptions. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Emilia replied, sitting up, holding the sheets around her. "May I please have my clothes?"

"Here," she said, setting them at the edge of the bed. "See you at dinner."

"Goodbye, Pomfrey," she said, and watched her leave. Emilia jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly.

"Dear God," she said softly, catching herself in the reflection of the glass. Because it was winter, it was darker outside quicker, and the glass became like a mirror. Her figure—nothing she worked on—was slightly demented. Her ribs poked out, making her stomach look in odd angles. Her legs were thin but not muscular, and all in all, she looked rather unhealthy.

"What have I done to myself?" she said, her hands covering her face. "Is my pride really so much that I can't even bother to eat to keep myself healthy?"

Emilia bent down and picked up her clothes, slipping them on gingerly. She was tired and truly…she couldn't describe the feeling. It bordered on resentment and regret.

After dressing in the clean clothes Madame Pomfrey had fetched from her room, which included a turtleneck and a dark skirt, she sat on the bed and pulled her soft velvet Mary Janes on top of her black stockings. "I think I sometimes wonder if I'm going insane," she said softly, buckling the velcro.

Emilia stood and left the room, walking out of the Infirmary. She took a left and walked down the staircase. As she made the corner, she bumped—quite literally—into Severus.

His hands had extended instinctually and caught her before she fell down. He let her go quickly, after he made sure she wasn't going to fall.

"Sorry," Emilia mumbled, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible.

"Emilia, why are you avoiding me?" he said softly, as she tried to walk away. "And I'd still like to know what you were screaming about."

"Well, the world's just full of questions," she said sarcastically. "Shove off, you bastard. I have no desire to talk to you ever again."

Severus grabbed her roughly on the shoulders, and set her back against the wall. "Stop being such a bitch, Emilia. I'm trying to help you. You kept screaming out 'Lucius' and 'No!'—I'm only trying to understand what you were talking about!"

Emilia's eyes grew wide. "It's none of your goddamn business." She pushed him away and walked down the hall.

Severus looked at her retreating back. "Did you finally remember what he did to you, Emilia?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned her head. "What?"

Severus didn't say anything. "How—how would you know? You can't have. You're guessing. A fool's bluff," Emilia cried.

"And yet you keep trying to remind yourself that it is," he replied softly. "Do you know what fainting will do to a weak body, Emilia? I've had it happen myself. Oblivated memories come back, crystal clear, as if you were reliving them. I head enough from you're fitful sleep to surmise what you were dreaming about."

"And what, pray-tell, would that be?" she replied, putting a hand on her hip. _He can't know, he can't!_

"The night Voldemort tried to induct you against your will."

Emilia's mouth dropped open. Her hands clenched into fists, she walked over and stood in front of him. "You tactless, imbecile, son of a bitch—"

Severus put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," he said, "to have caused you so much trouble that you'd starve yourself before you'd come and see me."

Her eyes welled with tears, and she murmured against his hand. Severus put his hand down, and Emilia's face became tear streaked. "You…you were there and you never stopped him," Emilia said softly, backing away from him.

"And how do you think I could have? Knowing Lucius, it would have been a team sport," Severus replied.

"But still…you could have done anything…"

"Ah, yes, well…so could have you."

Everything seemed to click together. Why she was so uncomfortable in the Great Hall. Why it did feel oddly familiar, his kiss. Where she had known Severus from, and not just school.

Why she couldn't get close to anyone.

Emilia wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Severus, just…stay away from me. That's the best thing right now. And…and why did you have to pry? Why did you have to know that? Because…because it's all you're fault!"

"All _my_ fault?"

"Yes," Emilia replied defiantly. "If you hadn't—hadn't—" she started to choke, the lump in her throat unbearable. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. It really isn't your fault."

Severus gave her a curious look, and Emilia turned away from him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She spun on her heel and started to walk away.

He was speechless. He felt as if he ought to do something, but he couldn't. He stop there, teetering on whether or not to follow her. But he didn't.

He let Emilia walk away.

And she knew it.

As Emilia rounded the corner at the end of the hall, she leaned against the wall and slid down, resting against the wall. She buried her hands in her face and sobbed.

He knew. Severus knew what had happened to her. How could he have guessed so easily? Was what she said in her sleep that much of a give away? And how did he know she Oblivated it from her memory?

Unless he knew her so well to have brought it up, and then by not bringing it up he knew she'd forgotten. Or maybe that many women performed that spell on themselves after meeting Malfoy.

"Emilia?" a kindly voice said, and bent down next to her. She looked up over her arms and saw it was Sirius's face.

"Ah!" she cried out, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He grinned warmly. "The Ministry caught me after that little event last week. I just got through with my trial. I'm a free man. I was on my way to thank Dumbledore again, when I saw you here—are you all right?" He extended a hand to her, and helped her up.

"I'm fine, Sirius," she said, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Congratulations on your well deserved freedom." She shook his hand. Sirius smiled and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm happy too." He squeezed her tightly to him, and Emilia laughed in spite of herself.

"What's gotten into you?" she said, pulling away from him and smiling, despite the fact she was crying just a few moments ago. 

Emilia glanced up at him, and realized that he was even better groomed than last she saw him last. Gone was the mat of hair hacked at the nape of his neck; it was replaced with a nice, clean cut, with sweeping bangs into his dark eyes. He had clean robes on—very fine cloth, too, and even sporting a tie.

She suddenly blushed, realizing that she was staring at him. "Oh, Sirius, that's right, you wanted to see Dumbledore. Don't let me keep you."

"Emilia, before I go, I want to make sure you're all right. Are you?" he said, catching her gaze. She swallowed thickly.

"Yeah," she replied, assuring him. Emilia smiled widely. "Good luck."

"I'm sure to see you in a bit. I'm staying for dinner!" he said, giving her a quick hug before walking off.

Dinner. What a joke.

She walked into the Great Hall for the first time in nearly half a week. Her stomach rumbled and yet, she did not feel hungry at all. Emilia was more nervous than anything. She glanced around, and saw that people were filing in for dinner around her. Sirius wasn't there yet, and neither was Dumbledore or Severus.

She paused before walking in, not sure if she wanted to proceed after all. A hand was on her shoulder, and Emilia turned her head.

"Hey there, Em, what're waiting for?" Sirius said, smiling. "God, I can't wait for a decent meal. Do you know how long it's been for one of these? Hell, just last year I was living off rats and whatever Harry could send me."

"That's…too much information, Sirius," she replied, trying to be happy. Emilia swallowed her nervousness. "Do you know where you're sitting?"

Sirius couldn't help but grin. "You won't be able to guess what happened this afternoon, Emilia," he said, excited, and ignoring her question.

"What?" she said, as they walked to the front of the room.

"I'm going to be a teacher here. Not that I can say I'm happy for it, but they did need a Charms teacher, and since Flitwick…" he trailed off.

"Yes, I understand," she replied. "I'm very happy for you. It's very lucky you got a job so quickly. Now they are going to get us confused. We're both Professor Black."

"Ah, well," he said, pulling out her chair, "they can just say the cute one and mean me." Sirius laughed.

"Sure, or the really annoying one," Emilia replied sarcastically with a smile. She found it hard to be depressed around Sirius, who was so carefree despite his predicaments. He was just so happy that it was almost contagious. Why couldn't she be this way around Severus?

Speaking of which, how _was_ the seating today, anyway? Emilia looked to where Sirius had taken his seat: next to her. It seems everyone got shifted. Dumbledore, as usual, sat at the head of the table, and next to him Minerva; Sirius next, and then herself, and then…like always, Severus. Clever of that Dumbledore, not to seat them next to each other.

_Right._

Sirius was up at arms about his new job, and the fact that being free made his face shine a little more, and it seemed to strip away years of responsibility and fear. He was almost pleasant to be around.

Until Severus sat down, that is. Clearly intimidated by Sirius's new job, Severus was nasty as ever, making side comments the second he sat down. In fact, Emilia didn't even notice he was there until he spoke.

Her face fell at the sight of him, and she knew it did. Emilia couldn't help it. She tried to regain herself by just giving Severus a look, a look that proved he was an asshole after all, and that he lost; she then turned back to Sirius and his conversation.

Served him right, she thought darkly.

When Dumbledore arrived, Sirius quieted down for a little bit. Emilia didn't really say anything between the two, and finally it came time for dinner to be served. Students were talking loudly, and wondering who this new man was. Potter, Granger and Weasley were itching to come to the front table. They kept shifting in their seats.

"A little anxious, aren't they?" Sirius remarked, taking about Potter and his best friends.

"Well, can you blame them?" she replied. "I mean, they are obviously fond of you."

Sirius sat up straight in his seat. "Damn straight." He pulled on his robes, making himself seem more important. Dumbledore looked over at the two of them and smiled warmly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Sirius," he said kindly. "And it is nice to see you here, Emilia."

Emilia nodded, looking at her lap. She didn't forget how badly she treated him earlier, when all he was doing was looking out for her. "Thank you, Dumbledore."

With a wave of his hand, food appeared on the plates. "Please, eat," Dumbledore said, and Sirius was only too happy to oblige.

He piled his plate full of food and began to eat. Though he spent twelve years in Azkaban, and two more of them as a runaway convict, Sirius was still a perfect gentlemen, eating with proper etiquette.

It amused her. "I'd never have thought that Sirius Black had manners at the table," she said, noting on his hold of his spoon.

"Well, I may be a dog, but I'm also very much a gentleman," he replied. "Though I can't imagine why this would amuse you."

Emilia laughed. "I don't know. It's just…"

She was interrupted by three people, who rushed up to the table. "Sirius!" Potter said breathlessly, "You're free!"

"Congratulations," Granger said, smiling. Weasley was grinning like mad.

"Knew you could do it."

Sirius turned to Emilia. "Look, my own fan club." She laughed.

Severus, clearly disgusted with the amount of happy memories being created, left the table at once and was very huffy about it.

Sirius, Potter, Granger and Weasley took no notice, however. They were gaily exchanging information and catching up on their old times. Sirius was enjoying himself a bit too much.

Emilia felt that she almost didn't belong there. She tapped Sirius on the shoulder and excused herself. Sirius looked at her apprehensively, wondering where she was going.

"I've already eaten, so I'm going to go…" she paused. Where would she go? Ah, the library. There was always work to be done.

"Emilia," he said, taking her wrist and leading her back to her chair, "Sit down. Harry, Hermione, Ron—I'll come up to Gryffindor Tower and talk to you later. I still think I know the way." He grinned.

Harry gave Sirius a small smile. "Besides, I haven't eaten all of my dinner yet," Sirius said, pointing to his plate, which was only half empty. "I need to finish my food."

"We're happy you're free, Sirius," Harry said before moving away. "See you later. Good day, Professor Black."

Emilia nodded at him, sitting down. "You didn't need to send them away."

"I was eating," he said, pointing his fork at the plate. "Besides, they can't be doing that. I'm a teacher, and I'm respectable. They can't be coming up to this table whenever they want."

"That sounds very mature," she said, agreeing. "From what I've heard though, that doesn't sound like a Sirius Black comment to me."

He grinned. "I can only imagine what you've heard from old Slimeball over there," Sirius replied, talking about Severus.

"Actually, nothing," Emilia admitted. "I know he's not your best friend, and all…"

Sirius laughed. "I can't imagine why you'd think that…?"

Emilia smiled. "I saw the look he gave you when you entered the Hufflepuff Dormitories. He was rather angry. Mostly at me, but some at you too."

Sirius looked away from her, swirling his fork around on his plate. "That guy is such an…" he paused, looking for the right word. "There is no word to suit the bastardness of Snape."

It was catty, but Emilia laughed anyway. "I agree at times," she replied, standing up. "I'm going to go to the library and finish my preparations. You should too, if you're expected to be teaching tomorrow."

"I never much liked Charms," he said, sighing. "I was more a Transfiguration expert. You don't think McGonagall would switch?" Sirius shook his head, answering his own question. "Nope, it was too much. You're right though. Need to brush up on the flimsy wandwork. The spells…cheap, I tell you, cheap."

"Good night, Sirius," Emilia said, stifling a laugh. She smiled and pushed in her chair, walking out of the Great Hall.

The next morning Emilia awoke with a splitting headache. "Ugh," she said, placing a hand on her head. "I feel like I split my head in two."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and blinked a few times to clear the onset of passing out. Emilia had sat up too fast, and her eyesight dimmed. "Ack, ack, ack," she repeated to herself, placing her feet on the cold floor and moving slowly into the bathroom.

Nightmares had ridden her dreams, and were of her past repressed memories. She had awoken many times that night, images shifting from Voldemort to Lucius, and all of them equally unpleasant. Most of all, they were very vivid when Emilia awakened, and she could do nothing about it. She could see Lucius every time she closed her eyes, and just remembering his strokes on her flesh made her skin crawl. She had to fight down the urge to scratch at herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, to rid the disgusting feeling of his touch.

Washing her face quickly and preparing herself for the day, Emilia went about her normalities as efficiently as she could. It helped her to forget what she had remember just the day before.

She walked out the door and went down to her classroom. Emilia wasn't hungry yet, and besides, she wanted to straighten up her work for the day before Emilia was pressed for time later. She called it a "professional courtesy." Besides, what else was she to do? Sitting around bothered her; ever since her days in school a work ethic wound its way into her in such a way that any idleness made her upset. She always needed to be doing _something_, because there was always something to do.

Emilia entered her room with a slightly deflated feeling. Whenever she was alone, Emilia had the tendency to think depressing thoughts, as often people do. Mostly was that one of her faults. She was tired of getting the short end of the stick, getting screwed all the time. Just when she thought something was going her way, for once, and that something seemed rather pleasant and that she finally deserved some time to herself to enjoy this, of course something equally terrible would pop up and ruin her mood. Emilia got tired of waiting for the other shoe to fall sometimes. Because that shoe always did fall, no matter what.

She sat down at her desk and picked up her papers from yesterday. She had no idea who filled in her classes or that they were even filled in, but whoever took over after she fainted was a freak of nature. They had left complementary piles of papers unstacked, unsorted and unorganized. Emilia itched with anticipation to make her desk neat and orderly. It was almost an obsessive compulsive disorder. After fifteen diligent minutes, however, Emilia's desk was tidy again. She sat back and sighed.

She glanced at the clock that was ticking so annoyingly in the corner, boring into her mind as she cleaned. However, Emilia noticed that it was about to ring eight o'clock, and that was the time that breakfast was usually placed on the table. Frowning slightly, she stood and walked out of her classroom. Under Madame Pomfrey's instructions, she knew she was supposed to be down there, eating. And to piss off Pomfrey was like pissing off some sort of God.

Emilia walked slowly down the three flights of stairs to the Great Hall and slipped inside, walking around the freakishly awake students. Though the ordeal was less than a month old, it seemed that everyone just wanted to move on, and not mull over the missing seats in classes. Emilia couldn't blame them. It always amazed her that children never _fully_ understood a situation, even after being placed in it. Babysitting when she was younger, she found that remarkably, if a child fell, and if the attendant did not make a fuss, the child would stand, blink, and return to its activity. Then it was the parents' or attendant's job to casually walk over and check the child for bleeding or scratches, and to assess the wound. But then you'd always get that stupid person who will rush over and exclaim, "Are you all right?" The child then has nothing better to do than wail and cry. God, Emilia hated stupid people.

But she admired these children who managed to get on with their lives. She knew that there will be times when they will think on their friends and brood their deaths silently, or say something or do something that will remind them of their friend. But that is how life is. These children needed to understand the situation. In the nearby future, death will not be something new. They will know of many deaths, of many close friends, before the impending conflict would end. And she could only hope the one death they will never experience would be their own. Until that happened, death would only be an illusion.


End file.
